WHERE  YOUR 
HEART  IS 

BEATRICE  HARRADEN 


•• 


WHERE  YOUR  HEART  IS 


WHERE  YOUR  HEART  IS 


BY 

BEATRICE  HARRADEN 

Author  of  "Ships  That  Pass  in  the  Night,"  "The 
Scholar's  Daughter,"  etc. 


NEW  YORK 

DODD,  MEAD  AND  COMPANY 
1918 


COPYRIGHT,  1918 
BY  DODD,  MEAD  AND  COMPANY,  INC. 


PART  I 


WHERE  YOUR  HEART  IS 


CHAPTER  I 

JAMES  THORNTON,  an  archaeologist,  of  Lalling- 
ton,  Yorkshire,  had  died  leaving  a  few  thousand 
pounds  in  safe  investments  and,  to  the  surprise  of  his 
family,  a  collection  of  precious  stones  of  unknown  value. 
Tamar  Scott,  of  Dean  Street,  Soho,  dealer  in  precious 
stones  and  antique  jewellery,  known  to  her  friends  and 
clients  generally  as  T.  Scott,  was  deputed  by  Christo- 
pher Bramfield,  a  diamond  merchant  of  Hatton  Garden 
and  a  Licensed  Valuer,  to  value  the  collection.  She 
arrived  for  this  purpose  at  Lallington  Station  on  an 
afternoon  in  late  October  in  the  year  1914. 

She  learnt  to  her  disgust  that  she  would  have  to 
mount  a  long  and  steep  hill  to  get  to  the  village,  and 
that  even  then  she  would  not  have  reached  the  Thorn- 
tons' house,  which  stood  at  the  extreme  top,  near  a  little 
spinney  at  the  end  of  the  village,  and  almost  on  the  edge 
of  the  moor.  Tamar  Scott  had  always  hated  hills,  and 
considered  that  they  were  spiteful  manifestations  of 
Nature.  When  she  heard  that  the  little  yellow  omni- 
bus would  probably  come  down  to  meet  the  next  train, 
she  elected  to  wait,  and  strolled  into  the  railway  hotel, 
where  an  exceedingly  pleasant  landlady  received  her 
and  installed  her  in  the  ingle-nook  of  the  comfortable 
hall.  She  was  waited  on  by  one  of  the  young  daughters 
of  the  house,  whose  gay  friendliness  prevented  her  from 
being  cross  at  the  delay. 


4  WHERE  YOUR  HEART  IS 

"  Marton  Grange  is  'a  fine  old  house,"  the  girl  said, 
as  she  brought  the  tea,  together  with  some  tempting- 
looking  cakes.  "  It  has  a  beautiful  oak  staircase  and 
a  ghost,  a  monk  who  comes  and  looks  in  at  the  library 
window." 

"  Indeed,"  said  Tamar  Scott.  "  Have  you  ever  seen 
him?" 

"  No,"  she  answered,  "  but  our  funny  old  man,  Tim, 
who  does  the  coals  and  boots  here,  has  seen  him  once. 
And  he  said  that  his  hair  stood  on  end  and  never  came 
down  for  three  whole  days.  I  think  mine  wouldn't  come 
down  for  three  whole  years  !  " 

Tamar  laughed. 

"  Oh,  it's  splendid  up  there,  you  know,"  the  girl  con- 
tinued. "  I  often  wish  we  lived  on  the  moor.  There's 
such  a  view  and  such  a  wind.  I  do  love  the  wind.  Still, 
I  make  nothing  of  dashing  up  there  when  I've  time. 
No  time  now,  since  Father  joined  up,  and  all  the  men 
too.  Father  is  in  India  just  at  present.  We  heard 
from  him  yesterday." 

"  Did  you?  "  said  T.  Scott,  with  some  attempt  at 
human  interest.  It  was  a  matter  of  entire  indifference 
to  her  whether  Father  were  in  India  or  torpedoed  and 
at  the  bottom  of  the  sea,  but  the  young  girl's  bright 
manner  and  winning  trustfulness  made  a  very  definite 
claim  on  a  kindly  response. 

So  she  added,  somewhat  to  her  own  surprise: 

"  You  must  be  very  thankful  that  so  far  he's  safe." 

"  Rather,"  the  girl  said,  her  face  lighting  up. 
"  Father's  top-hole.  I  don't  know  whatever  we  should 
do  if  we  lost  him.  Well,  I  must  be  off.  I've  got  to  see 
after  the  cows.  One  of  them,  a  perfectly  darling  little 
Alderney,  is  so  obstinate,  she  will  never  come  in  for  any 


5 

one  but  me.  If  you  want  anything,  please  ring,  and 
Mother  will  look  after  you.  If  you  do  change  your 
mind  and  don't  wait  for  the  yellow  omnibus,  you  can't 
mistake  the  way.  You  turn  to  the  right,  cross  the 
bridge,  have  a  look  at  the  river,  and  then  begin  to  climb. 
When  you  get  to  the  blacksmith's,  rest  a  bit.  That's 
what  Mother  always  does.  I  make  her." 

Tamar  Scott  gave  a  friendly  little  nod  as  the  girl 
darted  away  with  a  song  on  her  lips.  Something  in 
the  child's  youthfulness  and  energy  refreshed  and  stimu- 
lated her.  She  began  to  feel  that  she  could  mount  that 
hateful  hill  after  all. 

"  That's  a  brisk  little  girl  of  yours,"  she  remarked, 
when  Mrs.  Passmore  appeared  on  the  scene  again. 

The  mother  smiled  with  the  pride  of  love. 

"  You'd  never  believe  how  sensible  and  practical  she 
is,"  she  said.  "  And  yet  a  real  child  at  the  same  time. 
We  could  not  run  this  house  without  her.  It  is  her 
great  ambition  to  show  her  father  when  he  returns 
from  the  war,  that  we  have  taken  every  care  of  the 
business." 

Then,  after  she  had  received  payment  for  the  tea  and 
arranged  to  reserve  a  bedroom  for  Tamar  Scott  for 
the  night,  she  said : 

"  You  are  going  to  visit  Marton  Grange,  I  hear?  " 

Tamar  nodded  rather  rigidly. 

"  There's  a  curious  story  going  about  the  village  that 
Mr.  Thornton  has  left  a  valuable  jewel  collection,  hid- 
den in  secret  places,"  Mrs.  Passmore  continued.  "  But 
perhaps  it  is  only  gossip.  He  was  a  queer  gentleman, 
though,  and  only  interested  in  ancient  things.  But  as 
for  jewels,  I  can't  help  thinking  that  pretty  little  Miss 
Marion,  her  father's  favourite,  would  have  coaxed  some 


6  WHERE  YOUR  HEART  IS 

of  them  out  of  him  soon  enough,  if  there  had  been  any. 
I  never  saw  so  much  as  one  little  seed-pearl  on  her  — 
never  once.  No,  I  think  it's  just  gossip  and  nothing 
more." 

"  Perhaps  it  is,"  said  Tamar  glacially,  for  she  in- 
variably kept  her  own  counsel,  and  no  human  being  had 
ever  succeeded  by  any  artifice,  subtle  or  shallow,  in 
worming  out  from  her  the  reason  of  her  arrival  on  a 
scene,  or  the  nature  of  her  business  when  once  there. 

But  Mrs.  Passmore's  remarks  gave  her  food  for  re- 
flection. She  had  received  a  vague  hint  from  Christo- 
pher Bramfield  that  Mr.  Thornton's  collection  of  pre- 
cious stones  was  probably  valuable,  but  certainly  there 
had  been  no  suggestion  of  secrecy.  It  was  the  idea  of 
secrecy  which  arrested  her.  If,  in  addition  to  having 
collected  them,  he  had  really  maintained  an  entire 
silence  about  them  broken  only  by  death,  then  he  had 
evidently  been  an  enthusiast  of  enthusiasts,  a  slave,  held 
fast,  enchained  by  a  passion  of  adoration  which  no  one 
and  nothing  could  ever  have  undermined.  She  could 
understand  both  his  passion  and  his  secrecy,  for  she 
had  inherited  from  her  mother  a  passionate  love  for 
precious  stones,  and  more  than  a  touch  of  secret  rap- 
ture. 

The  circumstances,  therefore,  became  doubly  allur- 
ing. She  decided  not  to  wait  for  that  yellow  omnibus, 
but  to  speed  on  her  way,  hill  or  no  hill. 

Before  she  started  off  she  asked  for  a  brush,  and 
very  carefully  brushed  her  soft,  dark,  chestnut-brown 
coat  and  skirt,  which,  together  with  a  round  toque  to 
match,  was  her  invariable  out-door  dress.  She  was 
particular  about  her  appearance  and  exceedingly  care- 
ful of  her  clothes,  chiefly  for  economy's  sake,  though, 


WHERE  YOUR  HEART  IS  7 

being  rich,  she  could  have  had  as  many  as  she  chose. 
In  her  shop  she  wore  always  a  saxe-blue  overall,  the 
exact  colour  of  her  silk  waist.  Jewels  she  never  wore. 
It  was  enough  for  her  to  know  that  her  safe  was  full 
of  them. 

She  was  a  woman  of  about  forty-two  years  of  age, 
of  middle  stature,  not  slight,  not  solid,  dignified  in  bear- 
ing, quiet,  yet  giving  the  impression  of  one  having  a 
fund  of  fierceness  in  reserve,  either  for  attack  or  re- 
pulse. She  was  a  Jewess,  but  not  of  pronounced  type, 
with  dark  hair  and  black  eyes,  and  with  a  mouth  fine 
and  sensitive  but  undoubtedly  sullen.  She  was  sullen, 
too,  sullen  and  sulky  and  uncommonly  rude  at  times. 
Long  ago  a  man  had  said  of  her: 

"  T.  Scott  reserves  all  Tier  manners  -for  minerals  only. 
No  one  else  need  apply" 

But  that  was  ten  years  before  this  record  opens. 
She  had  changed  since  then,  grown  less  sulky,  had  more 
kind  impulses,  and  was  certainly  not  so  continuously 
rude.  And  as  she  became  kinder,  her  face,  always 
strangely  interesting,  took  on  a  new  expression  which 
at  moments  lent  it  an  unspeakable  beauty. 

Even  her  sulkiness,  too,  had  a  charm  all  its  own,  and 
the  few  who  knew  her  well  —  for  she  had  always 
ploughed  a  lonely  furrow  —  had  forgiven  her  every- 
thing and  loved  her  in  spite  of  her  selfishness,  her  rude- 
ness, the  hard  bargains  she  drove,  and  all  her  grasping 
ways.  She  could  charm  strangers,  too,  when  she 
wished,  and  no  one  was  her  equal  in  repelling  them 
either.  Young  people  she  did  not  try  to  repel.  Very 
few  came  her  way,  but  when  they  did  put  in  an  appear- 
ance some  chord  in  her  was  touched  to  tenderness. 
Perhaps  it  was  that  she  had  always  longed  for  young 


8  WHERE  YOUR  HEART  IS 

companionship,  as  so  many  lonely  children  have  longed, 
and  when  she  was  brought  face  to  face  with  youthful- 
ness  the  old  yearning  was  translated  into  a  graciousness 
of  spirit  which  showed  her  at  her  best. 

As  she  went  along,  the  pure,  bracing  air  caught  her 
in  its  embrace  and  stimulated  her  to  unwonted  elasticity 
of  step.  She  glanced  heavenwards  and  was  arrested 
by  the  beauty  of  the  clouds,  grey,  pink,  dove-coloured, 
fringed  with  gold  and  red.  At  the  bridge  she  paused 
to  watch  the  river  Wharf e,  swollen  with  recent  rains, 
and  to  feel  the  life-giving  chill  of  its  breath  strike  full 
on  her  face.  She  crossed  to  the  other  side,  and  with 
her  eye  followed  its  course  until  it  hid  itself  from  view. 
She  waited  until  a  drove  of  sheep  with  an  old  shepherd 
had  passed  her  and  a  long,  thin  line  of  cows  with  an 
escort  in  the  shape  of  a  tiny  boy,  and  then  she  left  the 
bridge  behind  and  began  to  climb  to  the  village. 

The  hill  was  not  so  bad  after  all.  She  thought  she 
had  made  rather  a  fuss  about  nothing.  And  one  could 
always  stop  and  look  back  at  that  shining  river  and 
those  emerald  fields  through  which  it  threaded  its  way. 
Tamar  Scott  was  not  fond  of  Nature,  and  seldom 
deigned  to  notice  it ;  but  it  was  borne  in  on  her  that  here 
were  beautiful  scenes  which  would  not  allow  themselves 
to  be  ignored. 

Suddenly  she  heard  the  sound  of  a  horse  and  cart, 
and  turning,  saw  a  dog-cart  and  a  cob  brought  to  a 
precipitate  halt  by  the  driver,  a  girl  of  about  nineteen, 
who  called  out  in  a  most  friendly  voice : 

"  Is  that  Miss  Scott?  Oh,  do  say  it  is!  I  meant  to 
have  met  the  train,  but  Tom  didn't  bring  the  horse  back 
from  Henwick  in  time." 

"  Yes,  I'm  Miss  Scott,"  Tamar  answered,  with  one 


WHERE  YOUR  HEART  IS  9 

of  her  half-sulky  smiles  which  had  so  much  charm  in 
them. 

"  Then  do  please  get  in,  and  I'll  run  you  up  to  the 
Grange  in  less  than  no  time,"  the  girl  said.  "  I'm  Ma- 
rion Thornton.  Sha'n't  I  just  give  Tom  a  wigging  for 
making  me  late!  Steady,  Robin;  don't  pretend  you 
mind  being  stopped  in  the  middle  of  a  hill.  Are  you  all 
right,  Miss  Scott?  Hold  fast  whilst  we  swirl  round. 
Oh,  nothing  will  happen.  Nothing  ever  does  happen 
with  Robin  and  me.  We  scamper  up  and  we  scamper 
down,  and  if  we  were  an  aeroplane  we'd  loop  the  loop !  " 

Tamar  did  not  feel  at  all  sure  that  nothing  would 
happen,  even  though  Robin  was  evidently  accustomed 
to  precipitancy,  and  in  perfect  harmony  with  his  dash- 
ing young  mistress.  She  was  not  sorry  when  she  was 
landed  safely  outside  Marton  Grange,  or  rather  outside 
the  spinney  which  led  to  it.  Here  steed  and  driver  left 
her  and  tore  off  in  another  direction  at  headlong  pace. 
Tamar,  recovering  her  breath  and  her  senses,  found  that 
she  was  at  the  top  of  the  little  mountain  village,  with 
its  quaint  stone  houses  with  mullioned  windows  and 
narrow  cobbled  streets,  and  the  moors,  stretching  far 
and  wide,  rolling  over  each  other  in  stately  billows,  not 
as  mountains  shutting  out  the  space,  but  as  the  ocean 
promising  it,  offering  it,  bestowing  it  without  stint  or 
measure. 

She  stood  for  a  few  moments  surveying  the  wonderful 
expanse,  and  then  glanced  at  another  old  shepherd, 
resting  in  the  tiny  square,  surrounded  by  his  flock  and 
watched  over  by  his  dog,  quiet  and  serene  in  outward 
behaviour,  but  with  eyes  and  brain  ready  for  any  emer- 
gency. Children  were  playing  round  the  old  pump.  A 
herd  of  cattle  was  passing  down  from  the  moors.  She 


10  WHERE  YOUR  HEART  IS 

thought  with  a  smile  of  the  contrast  between  this  peace- 
ful scene  and  Dean  Street,  Soho.  Then  she  opened  the 
gate,  went  through  the  spinney  and  the  garden,  and 
found  herself  in  front  of  a  rather  long,  one-storied 
house,  with  an  antique  porch  and  old  mullioned  windows. 
It  had  evidently  been  added  to  from  time  to  time,  but 
presented  no  discords  of  line  or  form.  A  large  yew  tree 
on  the  left-hand  side  gave  perhaps  a  sombre  impression 
at  first  sight ;  but  there  was  nothing  depressing  about  the 
house  itself,  and  although  it  stood  alone,  almost  on  the 
edge  of  the  moor,  its  position  did  not  suggest  loneliness 
or  dreariness,  but  rather  a  peaceful  and  comfortable 
isolation  within  a  convenient  stone's  throw  of  the  village. 
It  was  supposed  originally  to  have  been  a  monk's  rest- 
house  belonging  to  an  abbey. 

It  looked  like  a  place  of  rest  now.  A  fire  in  one  of 
the  rooms  cast  a  radiance  on  the  window  which  served 
as  a  signal  of  kindly  welcome.  Tamar  pulled  at  the 
long  bell  and  was  delighted  when  the  door  was  opened, 
not  by  a  servant,  but  by  Marion  herself. 

"  I  shouldn't  have  left  you  outside  the  spinney,"  she 
said,  "  but  that  our  old  man  was  just  going  off,  and  I 
wanted  him  to  put  the  horse  and  cart  away.  I  just 
caught  him.  Please  come  in  here,  will  you?  I  think 
my  brother  Rupert  is  already  here  waiting  for  you,  and 
I'll  call  Mother  and  the  others." 

She  led  Tamar  into  the  room  where  the  fire-fairies 
were  dancing  in  joyous  measure. 

"  Rupert,"  she  said,  "  here's  Miss  Scott.  I  met  her 
half-way  after  all." 

A  young  man  rose  none  too  nimbly  from  the  arm- 
chair and  held  out  his  hand  to  Tamar. 

"  How  good  of  you  to  come  at  once,  Miss  Scott,"  he 


WHERE  YOUR  HEART  IS  11 

said,  with  a  charming  little  courteous  smile.  "  We  are 
all  frightfully  anxious  to  know  about  the  jewels.  I've 
been  counting  the  hours  since  Mr.  Bramfield  wrote  that 
you  were  the  expert  who  was  coming  —  counting  the 
hours  and  reading  your  splendid  book  on  precious 
stones  which  he  sent  us  as  an  introduction.  I  didn't 
know  there  was  such  a  thing  as  an  '  asteria,'  but  now  I 
could  pass  an  examination  on  the  subject!  " 

T.  Scott's  face  flushed  with  pleasure. 

"  Oh,  Bramfield  sent  that,  did  he?  "  she  said. 

"  It's  a  ripping  work,"  he  added.  "  I  tell  you  it  has 
made  me  forget  about  this  wretched  war." 

"  I  am  glad,"  Tamar  said,  and  she  glanced  at  him, 
saw  the  signs  of  suffering  on  his  thin  face,  noted  that 
his  left  arm  was  stiff  and  his  left  leg  slightly  disabled, 
and  knew  that  he  had  done  his  part  at  the  front. 

"  Mr.  Bramfield  says  there  is  nothing  on  earth  that 
you  don't  know  about  precious  stones,"  he  said.  "  And 
I  can  quite  believe  it  after  reading  some  of  those  chap- 
ters. How  on  earth  do  you  know  about  it  all  —  the 
romance  and  the  lore  and  all  that,  as  well  as  the  min- 
eralogical  part?  And  you  evidently  care  frightfully 
—  don't  you?  That's  what  carries  one  along." 

*'  Yes,  I  care  frightfully,"  Tamar  repeated,  with  a 
quiet  smile. 

"  Look  here,"  he  said,  "  you  must  have  some  tea,  and 
I  just  wanted  to  say  something  to  you  before  my  mother 
and  the  others  come  in.  We  arranged  between  us  that 
I  should  be  the  one  to  explain  the  situation  to  you  alone. 
That's  why  Marion  has  bolted." 

"  Don't  ring  for  tea,"  she  said.  "  I  had  some  at  the 
hotel." 

"  All  right,  then,"  he  said.     "  111  fire  away.     First, 


12  WHERE  YOUR  HEART  IS 

I  must  tell 'you  that  my  mother  is  rather  upset.  I'm 
afraid  she'll  weep  a  lot  —  and  all  that  sort  of  thing. 
You  won't  mind,  will  you?  " 

"  No,  I  won't  mind  in  the  least,"  T.  Scott  answered. 
"  Tears  make  no  impression  on  me." 

"  Rather  boring,  aren't  they  ?  "  Rupert  said.  "  But 
in  this  case  there  is  a  good  deal  of  rather  painful  cause 
for  tears  and  wounded  feelings,  and  we're  all  a  bit 
jarred,  you  know.  You  see,  we'd  no  idea  whatsoever 
that  my  father  owned  this  collection  which  you  are 
going  to  value.  Not  the  slightest  suspicion." 

"  Ah,"  thought  Tamar,  "  then  it  is  a  secret  collec- 
tion, after  all." 

"  So  I  wanted  to  warn  you  that  the  atmosphere  is 
likely  to  be  —  well,  perhaps  a  bit  trying,"  Rupert 
Thornton  said. 

Tamar  nodded,  to  show  that  she  understood. 

"  The  circumstances  have  been  rather  peculiar,"  he 
went  on,  with  a  slight  laugh  which  had  a  touch  of  dep- 
recation in  it.  "  My  father  kept  his  precious  stones  in 
boxes  constructed  to  look  like  the  volumes  of  a  stuffy 
old  encyclopaedia  which  were  lodged  on  the  top  shelves 
of  his  book-case.  Wasn't  that  queer  of  him?  " 

Tamar  remained  silent.     She  was  deeply  interested. 

"  He  knew  it  was  a  perfectly  safe  hiding-place,"  Ru- 
pert added.  "  He  knew  that  no  human  being  in  this 
house  would  ever  have  wanted  to  be  bothering  "after  that 
top  shelf  and  any  of  those  encyclopaedia  volumes,  which 
had  been  there  for  years.  He  counted  on  that  —  and 
he  scored.  My  mother  has  taken  his  secrecy  very  much 
to  heart." 

"  And  have  you  also  taken  it  to  heart?  "  Tamar 
asked. 


WHERE  YOUR  HEART  IS  13 

"  Oh,  well,  as  I  told  you,  we're  all  a  bit  jarred,"  he 
answered.  "  We  evidently  knew  nothing  about  him. 
He  was  a  very  reserved  man,  and  none  of  us  were  very 
intimate  with  him.  We  were  scarcely  ever  allowed  in 
his  library  which  he  kept  locked.  He  was  a  learned 
archaeologist,  and  we  thought  he  wasn't  interested  in 
anything  except  mounds  and  barrows  and  stone  imple- 
ments and  spear  heads,  etc.  But  I  think  he  must  have 
had  a  jolly  good  sort  of  *  off  time '  in  collecting  these 
stones  and  hiding  them  away  from  us  all.  Every  one 
has  got  to  have  some  sort  of  a  secret  spree.  I'm  glad 
he  had  his  private  innings.  That's  how  I  look  on  it 
with  one  part  of  my  brain  —  and  with  the  other  part 
I'd  like  to  understand  his  motives.  I  ..." 

He  broke  off  suddenly,  waved  his  hand  as  if  in  dis- 
missal of  the  subject,  and  said  cheerfully: 

"  Well,  I  mustn't  worry  you  with  all  this.  I'll  go 
and  call  my  people  and  bring  the  jewels.  We're  very 
excited  about  their  value.  There  is  no  saying  we're  not 
—  secrecy  or  no  secrecy !  " 

He  disappeared  from  the  room,  leaving  T.  Scott  in  a 
state  of  beatific  curiosity  to  learn  more.  The  story 
appealed  both  to  her  sympathy  and  to  her  imagination. 
She  pictured  to  herself  that  lover  of  jewels,  a  stranger 
to  her,  and  yet  of  kindred  nature,  revelling  secretly  in 
his  secret  treasures,  adding  to  them  one  by  one,  perhaps 
standing  sometimes  and  gazing  with  silent  rapture  and 
satisfaction  at  those  innocent-looking  "  stuffy "  vol- 
umes which,  in  the  presence  of  others,  were  only  dis- 
carded books  of  no  value  or  interest,  but  which,  in  pri- 
vate intercourse  with  himself,  were  sacred  shrines  of 
silent  worship. 

Held  by  these  thoughts  and  by  the  picture  she  had 


14  WHERE  YOUR  HEART  IS 

conjured  up,  she  scarcely  noticed  that  the  door  had 
opened,  and  that  the  family  were  trooping  into  the 
room.  Rupert  Thornton's  voice  roused  her,  when  he 
said: 

"  This  is  Miss  Scott,  Mother," 

Tamar  looked  up  and  saw  an  elderly  lady,  and 
Marion,  also  another  girl,  probably  the  elder  daughter, 
and  another  son,  younger  than  Rupert,  about  eighteen 
years  of  age,  and  very  like  Marion. 

Tom,  at  least,  was  not  weighed  down  by  tragic  memo- 
ries. He  was  in  the  best  of  spirits,  and  was  carrying 
with  elaborate  and  exaggerated  care,  savouring  of  mis- 
chief, three  volumes  of  the  encyclopaedia,  which  with  a 
grimace  he  suddenly  dumped  down  on  the  table. 

"  My  mother,  my  sisters,  and  my  brother,"  Rupert 
said,  in  his  courteous  way. 

T.  Scott  nodded  to  Marion,  as  if  to  an  old  acquaint- 
ance, and  bowed  gravely  to  Mrs.  Thornton  and  the 
others.  Mrs.  Thornton  had  already  produced  her 
handkerchief  and  was  preparing  to  weep. 

"  Mother  dear,  I  do  beg  of  you  to  control  yourself 
for  your  own  sake.  It  is  so  bad  for  you  to  give  way," 
her  elder  daughter  said  disapprovingly. 

"  Oh,  shut  up,  Winifred,"  Tom  said  in  a  loud  whis- 
per. "  Leave  the  Mater  alone.  We  aren't  all  as  self- 
contained  as  you,  thank  goodness." 

For  a  moment  Tamar  felt  a  little  embarrassed,  as  she 
was  not  accustomed  to  the  sallies  of  brothers  and  sis- 
ters ;  but  she  soon  recovered  herself,  and  fixed  her  eyes 
on  those  three  dummy  books  which  her  fingers  were  itch- 
ing to  handle. 

"Do  you  wish  me  to  look  at  the  jewels  now?"  she 
asked  very  kindly  and  respectfully  of  Mrs.  Thornton, 


WHERE  YOUR  HEART  IS  15 

who  was  still  immersed  in  her  handkerchief.  "  Or 
would  you  rather  wait?  " 

"  No,  we'll  begin  now,"  Mrs.  Thornton  answered,  in 
a  grief-stricken  voice. 

"  Cheer  up,  Mother  dear>"  Marion  said  affection- 
ately. "  Think  how  jolly  it  will  be  if  Miss  Scott  tells 
us  that  the  jewels  are  worth  a  big  fortune !  " 

*'  Yes,  that's  the  way  to  look  at  it,  Mater,"  Rupert 
said,  putting  his  hand  on  her  shoulder. 

"  It  is  such  an  ordeal,"  murmured  Mrs.  Thornton. 

"  It  would  be  a  far  worse  ordeal  for  us  if  they  didn't 
exist  at  all,"  remarked  Winifred  severely. 

"  Suppose,  for  instance,  they  were  worth  ten  thou- 
sand pounds,"  Rupert  suggested  gaily. 

"  Far  more  likely  ten  thousand  pence,  old  chap," 
Tom  rejoined.  "  All  the  stories  I've  ever  read  in  the 
past  about  hidden  treasure  left  me  icy  cold  with  dis- 
appointment. I've  begun  to  freeze  already.  In  fact, 
I'm  below  zero." 

He  shivered  as  he  spoke  and  doubled  himself  up  and 
made  his  teeth  chatter.  Tamar  laughed.  She  liked 
Tom.  She  was  thankful  he  was  there  to  help  the  situa- 
tion. 

"  If  I  were  you,  I  shouldn't  begin  to  freeze  until  you 
know  for  certain  that  the  hidden  treasure  has  proved 
to  be  a  disappointment,"  she  said.  "  I've  known  hid- 
den treasure  that  was  not." 

"All  right,"  he  laughed.  "I'll  thaw.  Here  goes. 
I  have  thawed." 

"  Don't  be  so  frivolous,  Tom,"  Marion  said.  "  Do 
behave.  You'll  hurt  Mother's  feelings." 

"  Nothing  could  hurt  my  feelings  more  than  they 
have  been  hurt,"  Mrs.  Thornton  murmured  from  be- 


16  WHERE  YOUR  HEART  IS 

neath  her  cambric  handkerchief.  "  The  secrecy  has 
broken  my  heart." 

There  was  a  pause.  Some  words  of  exhortation  rose 
to  Winifred's  lips,  but  at  a  stony  glance  from  Tom  she 
repressed  them,  and  contented  herself  instead  with  a  low 
sigh  expressive  of  infinite  boredom  and  resigned  hope- 
lessness. Tom  whistled  sotto  voce,  Marion  glanced  at 
the  mirror  opposite  and  arranged  her  hair,  and  Rupert 
seemed  lost  in  thought.  He  was  thinking  that  he  was 
glad  he  had  prepared  the  jewel  expert  for  the  possibili- 
ties of  a  trying  family  scene.  He  wondered  whether 
his  mother  was  really  as  much  hurt  by  his  father's 
secrecy  as  she  supposed  herself  to  be.  Wasn't  it  just 
a  sort  of  unconscious  pose,  the  results  of  the  survival 
of  that  traditional  absurdity  which  claimed  that  hus- 
bands and  wives  should  share  the  same  thoughts,  the 
same  outlook  and  be  permanently  deprived  of  any  sepa- 
rate or  secret  expression  of  individuality?  The  claim 
had  never  justified  itself,  of  course,  and  neVer  could 
justify  itself.  Yet  it  still  persisted  and  served,  as  in 
the  case  of  his  mother,  as  a  basis  for  false  sentimental- 
ity and  for  indulgence  in  the  luxury  of  injured  pride. 
Well,  he  mustn't  let  that  relationship  develop  between 
his  girl  Dorothy  and  himself.  It  wasn't  good  enough. 
She  must  be  free,  and  he  must  be  free. 

And  then  he  smiled.  He  could  not  imagine  Dorothy 
being  anything  else  except  free  and  "  on  her  own," 
whether  he  liked  it  or  not.  As  for  his  father's  secrecy, 
it  certainly  had  been  a  tremendous  surprise  to  them 
all.  But  ought  they  to  have  been  so  surprised?  His 
father  had  always  been  a  strange  sort  of  parent,  very 
detached  from  them  all,  undoubtedly  very  detached 


WHERE  YOUR  HEART  IS  17 

from  him.  He  had  always  admired  him  and  had  wanted 
to  be  closer  to  him,  but  that  had  been  impossible.  Ma- 
rion appeared  to  have  got  the  nearest  —  and  that  was 
not  very  near,  as  events  proved.  He  had  kept  his  secret 
to  the  end.  But,  really,  his  money  had  been  his  own 
to  do  what  he  liked  with,  and  he  might  very  well  have 
reasoned  with  himself  that  he  was  combining  the  secret 
gratification  of  a  passion  with  the  duty  of  saving  for 
his  family.  Rupert  rather  wished  his  mother  could  see 
it  in  this  light.  Perhaps  she  would,  after  a  time  —  see 
it  impersonally  —  and  then  suffer  less. 

It  was  T.  Scott  who  broke  the  silence.  She  could 
bear  the  tension  no  longer,  and  she  had  arrived  at  such 
a  pitch  of  excjtement  about  the  contents  of  those  boxes, 
that  she  nearly  snatched  at  them. 

"  Well,  what  about  the  jewels?  "  she  said  in  her  most 
business-like  tone  of  voice,  such  as  she  used  at  her 
counter  in  her  shop  in  Dean  Street. 

Her  reminder  recalled  the  family,  and  they  were  soon 
all  seated  at  the  table,  with  Tamar  in  the  midst  of  them 
and  the  precious  stones  spread  out  before  her  enrap- 
tured eyes.  Discreet  though  she  was,  she  could  not 
suppress  an  exclamation  of  delight. 

"  I'm  inclined  to  think  you  have  a  small  fortune 
here,"  she  said  half  to  herself. 

"  Hurrah,"  said  Tom  cheerfully.  "  Anything  in  the 
neighbourhood  of  ten  thousand  pounds?  That'll  do 
me  nicely." 

"  Hush,  Tom,  don't  be  a  beast,"  Marion  said.  "  Do 
behave  yourself." 

"He  must  indeed  have  enjoyed  collecting  these  gem 
stones,"  Tamar  said  almost  in  a  whisper. 


18  WHERE  YOUR  HEART  IS 

She  handled  them  one  by  one,  gloating  over  them, 
revelling  in  them,  with  no  thought  of  their  value  domi- 
nant in  her  mind,  but  entirely  taken  up  with  the  magic 
of  their  beauty.  Rubies,  amethysts,  sapphires,  emer- 
alds, peridots,  Oriental  topazes  vied  with  each  other  in 
lustre  and  loveliness ;  and  an  opal  with  entrancing 
flashes  of  flame-red  and  brilliant  green  held  her  spell- 
bound. Suddenly  she  started  and  gave  a  cry  of  joy. 

"  Ah,"  she  exclaimed,  "  my  star  ruby  —  my  own  star 
ruby  which  I  always  regretted  having  parted  with. 
However,  I  got  a  still  more  beautiful  one  in  its  stead. 
But  this  is  a  very  lovely  specimen  with  its  shi:  :mering, 
six-pointed  star." 

She  turned  to  Rupert. 

"  You  were  speaking  of  an  asteria,"  she  said. 
"  This  is  the  one  I  described  in  my  book." 

**  How  would  you  know  it  ?  "  Winifred  asked  scep- 
tically. 

"  How  would  I  know?  "  Tamar  repeated  with  a  soft, 
caressing  laugh.  "  As  a  shepherd  knows  his  sheep,  as 
an  astronomer  knows  his  stars." 

"  One  for  you,  Winifred,"  Tom  said,  chuckling. 

"  It  seems  entirely  unbelievable,"  Winifred  remarked 
in  a  matter-of-fact  voice. 

"  Probably,"  Tamar  answered  dreamily.  "  Yet  I 
remember  it  well  —  and  remember  the  client  to  whom  I 
sold  it  —  for  fifteen  hundred  pounds." 

"  Fifteen  hundred  pounds ! "  they  exclaimed  in 
chorus. 

Tamar  nodded. 

"  I  can  see  him  now,"  she  said.  "  A  tall  man,  with 
deep-set  eyes,  lantern- jawed.  I  remember  he  stuttered 
slightly  —  very  slightly." 


WHERE  YOUR  HEART  IS  19 

"  My  poor  husband,"  Mrs.  Thornton  said,  relapsing 
into  tears. 

But  no  one  noticed.  Their  whole  interest  was  cen- 
tred on  the  gems  and  on  Tamar's  comments.  She 
called  this  one  an  alexandrite,  that  one  a  rose-pink 
beryl,  another  a  true  cat's-eye,  another  a  parti-coloured 
green  sapphire,  another  a  South  American  emerald,  an- 
other a  brown  diamond,  another  a  Siam  ruby ;  and  ex- 
clamation followed  on  exclamation  as,  after  scrutiniz- 
ing each  gem  most  carefully,  she  put  a  rough  value  on 
it  which  she  said  would  have  to  be  substantiated  by 
proper  tests  and  a  more  careful  consideration  of  vari- 
ous characteristics  and  certain  obvious  imperfections. 
A  few  of  the  stones,  she  said,  were  not  valuable  in  them- 
selves ;  but  most  of  them  not  only  excited  in  her  a  warm 
admiration  of  their  beauty,  but  also  a  lively  commer- 
cial appreciation  of  their  worth.  She  enjoyed  herself 
hugely  over  the  collection,  and  she  enjoyed  also  the 
pleasure  of  giving  reassuring  verdicts  to  these  young 
people  grouped  around  her  and  waiting  on  her  every 
word.  And  looking  up  once,  she  wxs  amused  and  glad 
to  see  that  Mrs.  Thornton  was  no  longer  occupied  with 
her  tears  and  her  cambric  handkerchief,  but  was  taking 
a  natural  and  interested  part  in  the  proceedings.  As 
ior  Tom,  he  was  a  source  of  great  amusement  to  Tamar. 
He  refused  to  be  suppressed,  and  she  laughed  softly 
when  he  blurted  out  remarks  which  were  considered  out 
of  taste  by  the  family. 

"  By  Jove,"  he  said  once,  "  but  if  it's  true,  as  you 
say,  that  the  Governor  knew  all  about  precious  stones, 
why  on  earth  did  he  want  to  go  and  buy  any  which  were 
valueless?  That  beats  me  hollow." 

Tamar  smiled  indulgently. 


20  WHERE  YOUR  HEART  IS 

"  He  probably  admired  something  in  them,"  she  said. 
"  Some  stones  are  exceedingly  interesting  from  a  col- 
lector's point  of  view,  and  yet  comparatively  valueless. 
I  have  some  I  wouldn't  part  with  for  any  sum  —  and 
yet  I  could  not  tell  you  why." 

"  I  do  think  he  might  have  given  me  two  or  three  of 
the  valueless  ones,"  Marion  suddenly  exclaimed.  "  He 
knew  I  loved  pretty  things." 

"  I  think  I  can  explain  why  he  did  not,"  Tamar  said 
kindly.  "  He  probably  could  not  bring  himself  to 
break  into  his  collection  which,  apart  from  value  and 
interest,  represented  to  him  also  many  cherished  memo- 
ries—  the  joy  of  search,  the  delight  in  finding,  the 
pleasure  in  possessing.  It  takes  a  lover  of  precious 
stones  to  understand  that  state  of  mind.  To  part  with 
one  specimen,  however  insignificant,  would  be  like  dig- 
ging it  out  of  one's  very  heart." 

"  Never  mind,  Marion,  you'll  be  able  to  have  as  many 
of  the  rotten  ones  as  you  want  now,"  Tom  put  in. 
"  We'll  make  you  a  present  of  them  all  and  keep  the 
choicest  for  ourselves.  Cheerioh." 

"  Would  it  not  be  more  to  the  point  if  we  asked  Miss 
Scott  the  approximate  value  of  the  collection  ?  "  Wini- 
fred remarked  in  her  most  frigid  tone  of  superiority. 

"  Roughly  speaking,  I  should  say  about  fifty  thou- 
sand pounds,"  Tamar  said,  staring  at  Winifred  with 
the  same  sort  of  concentrated  interest  which  she  was 
wont  to  bestow  on  a  puzzling  variety.  "  I  may  be  a 
thousand  or  two  out,  either  one  way  or  the  other.  But 
I  should  say  from  this  hasty  examination  about  fifty 
thousand  pounds." 

"  Fifty  thousand  pounds !  "  they  exclaimed  together 
in  joyful  surprise. 


WHERE  YOUR  HEART  IS  21 

"Well,  I'm  hanged,"  Tom  said.  "My  faith  is  re- 
stored in  hidden  treasure." 

"  Dear  Father  has  saved  for  us,  after  all,"  Mrs. 
Thornton  murmured,  beginning  to  weep  again. 

"  Yes,  that's  the  way  to  look  at  it,"  Rupert  said, 
speaking  for  the  first  time.  "  Father  invested  his 
money  in  a  way  that  pleased  him  and  benefits  us  in  the 
end." 

"  He  must  have  had  the  most  exquisite  joy  in  collect- 
ing and  possessing  these  beautiful  stones,"  Tamar  said. 
"  That  I  can  swear  to,  because  I  know  what  I  should 
have  felt  myself." 

"  Can  you  explain  the  secrecy?  "  Winifred  asked  sen- 
tentiously. 

"  Can  you  explain  human  nature?  "  Tamar  asked  in 
return. 

"  Ah,  there  you  are,"  Tom  said.  "  Of  course  she 
can't.  And  who  wants  fifty  thousand  pounds  ex- 
plained? The  great  point  is,  we've  got  'em!  " 

Tamar  helped  Rupert  to  put  the  stones  carefully 
back  into  the  boxes,  and  then  rose. 

"  I  will  come  up  to-morrow  and  examine  them  again," 
she  said.  "  But  before  I  go,  I  must  tell  you  that  an  idea 
has  occurred  to  me  which  is  worth  considering.  I  un- 
derstand these  stones  were  kept  in  these  dummy  ency- 
clopaedia volumes  at  the  top  of  the  bookcase  in  Mr. 
Thornton's  study.  May  I  ask  how  you  knew  they  were 
there?" 

"  There  were  directions  in  the  will  for  finding  them," 
Mrs.  Thornton  faltered. 

"And  when  was  the  will  dated?"  Tamar  asked 
brusquely. 

"  Five    years    ago,"    Winifred    answered    promptly. 


22  WHERE  YOUR  HEART  IS 

"  Don't  you  remember,  Mother,  we  noticed  it  was  drawn 
up  on  your  silver-wedding  day  —  and  that  was  five 
years  ago." 

Mrs.  Thornton  nodded  assent  and  retreated  imme- 
diately to  the  shelter  of  the  cambric  handkerchief. 

"  I  would  like  to  see  that  book-shelf,"  Tamar  said 
slowly.  "  It  may  be  that  we  should  find  more  stones 
concealed  elsewhere  in  that  same  region.  I  notice  that 
there  are  several  interesting  ones  missing  which  no  lover 
of  precious  stones  would  ever  dream  of  omitting  from 
his  collection." 

"  Come  on,  now's  the  time,"  cried  Tom.  "  Perhaps 
we're  in  for  another  thrilling  discovery.  Come  on, 
girls ;  hurry  up,  Rupe.  No  time  to  be  lost." 

They  trooped  out  after  him,  but  when  they  had 
crossed  the  hal],  he  abandoned  them  and  dashed  back 
to  his  mother,  who  had  remained  on  the  sofa  and  who 
was  leaning  forward  gazing  into  the  fire.  He  knelt 
down  and  put  his  rough-haired  head  against  her  breast 
and  kept  turning  it  round  in  a  circular  caress. 

"  I  don't  mean  half  I  say,  do  I,  dear  old  Mater?  "  he 
said,  half  in  a  whisper.  "  Look  here,  don't  you  worry. 
The  Dad  loved  you  well  enough  in  his  funny  way,  you 
bet.  Men  often  have  shameful  secrets  —  worse  luck  — 
but  his  wasn't  shameful  —  awfully  curious  and  quaint, 
but  not  shameful  —  see !  There  now,  don't  you  fret. 
He  meant  it  all  for  the  best  —  probably  wanted  to  hide 
them  from  me  because  he  knew  I  was  such  a  beastly  rot- 
ter —  and  that  I'd  steal  them  or  pawn  them  —  see ! 
And  what  about  that  secret  of  yours,  Mater?  You  did 
tell  me  once  that  you'd  had  an  early  love  whom  you'd 
never  forgotten  and  never  could  forget  —  do  you  re- 
member telling  me  when  I  fished  out  that  faded  photo 


WHERE  YOUR  HEART  IS  23 

in  your  old  desk  —  well,  perhaps  that's  been  your  sort 
of  hidden  sapphire  or  diamond  or  ruby  —  see!  Buck 
up,  old  Mater.  Cheeriohl  It's  awfully  jolly  having 
fifty  thousand  pounds,  isn't  it?  Well,  I'm  off  to  see 
the  second  instalment." 

Her  hand,  which  had  been  fondling  his  hair,  lay  list- 
less in  her  lap.  and  she  shook  her  head  once  or  twice  as 
if  in  silent  refusal  of  any  comfort  or  consolation  of- 
fered her.  Memories  of  thirty  years  of  married  life 
rose  up  to  mock  her.  Thirty  years  she  had  lived  her 
life  side  by  side  with  this  man  —  and  she  had  known 
nothing  of  him.  He  had  been  an  utter  stranger  to  her. 
Tens  of  thousands  of  pounds  could  never  heal  the  wound 
to  her  sensitiveness,  her  pride. 


CHAPTER  II 

r  I  iHEY  found  no  further  treasure  in  the  library. 
A  They  mounted  the  steps  and  examined  carefully 
every  book  on  the  shelves  to  make  sure  that  it  was  in 
very  truth  what  it  seemed  to  be,  a  book,  and  not  a  secret 
receptacle  for  precious  stones.  Horace,  Virgil,  Taci- 
tus, Foxe's  "  Book  of  Martyrs,"  "  The  Pilgrim's  Prog- 
ress," Shakespeare,  Buckle's  "  History  of  Civiliza- 
tion," Ranke's  "  History  of  the  Popes,"  and  many  oth- 
ers, came  under  their  searching  scrutiny,  and  emerged 
from  the  ordeal  blameless  but  disappointing.  Tom 
cried :  "  Ha  —  hurrah,  I've  discovered  something !  " 
when  he  unearthed  a  locked  note-book  which  looked  sus- 
piciously thick,  and  certainly  encouraged  the  possibility 
of  disguise.  But  when  they  prised  it  open  they  saw 
that  it  was  guileless  and  uninteresting,  with  blank  pages 
stained  by  age  and  dust. 

"  It's  no  use,"  he  said.  "  I  suppose  we've  got  all  the 
plunder.  And  I  think  we  ought  to  be  jolly  well  satis- 
fied." 

The  others  agreed,  but  Tamar  was  not  satisfied,  and 
kept  on  saying  to  herself: 

"Where  are  the  spinels?  There  must  be  spinels. 
It  isn't  at  all  likely  that  there  would  not  be  spinels  in 
his  collection.  Probably  they  are  in  another  hiding- 
place,  together  with  other  stones." 

But  although  obsessed  by  this  thought,  she  tried  to 

remind  herself  that  the  fact  of  there  being  no  spinels 

24 


WHERE  YOUR  HEART  IS  25 

was  really  no  concern  of  hers,  and  she  returned  to  Mrs. 
Thornton  to  say  good-bye.  To  her  surprise,  Mrs. 
Thornton  asked  her  not  to  go  back  to  the  hotel,  but  to 
spend  the  night  at  Marton  Grange. 

"  Please,  please  do,"  they  all  said,  circling  round  her 
as  if  she  were  an  old  friend  whom  they  could  not  suffer 
to  depart. 

Tamar  was  pleased  in  her  queer  way,  for  she  had  al- 
ways yearned  secretly  for  young  companionship,  and 
had  not  found,  or  else  had  not  been  able  temperamen- 
tally to  take  the  chances  of  coming  into  an  intimate 
relationship  with  young  people.  So  she  allowed  her- 
self to  be  persuaded  to  remain  at  Marton  Grange;  and 
Winifred  herself,  with  a  hospitable  concern  which  had 
nothing  psychological  in  it,  installed  her  in  the  oak 
bedroom  overlooking  the  moor,  whilst  Marion  and  Tom 
tumbled  down  to  the  hotel  to  say  she  would  not  be 
coming,  and  to  fetch  her  suit-case.  Mrs.  Thornton 
roused  herself  from  her  sad  thoughts  and  produced 
from  her  linen  cupboard  the  best  and  most  unhealthily 
heavy  counterpane  she  could  find.  Tamar  was,  in  fact, 
made  welcome,  and  she  sat  amongst  them  that  evening 
as  a  friend  rather  than  as  a  stranger,  told  them  thrill- 
ing things  about  precious  stones,  and  the  many  super- 
stitions connected  with  them  and  some  of  her  curi- 
ous experiences  with  clients,  and  gave  herself  out  in 
every  way  for  their  benefit,  stimulated  by  the  feeling 
that  they  regarded  her  coming  as  a  godsend  and  her 
good  news  as  a  blessing. 

Probably  never  before  in  her  life  had  she  been  so  kind, 
so  human,  so  companionable;  and  she  not  only  held 
their  interest  and  attention,  but  acted  as  a  balm  to  each 
of  them  and  won  their  united  gratitude  by  her  interpre- 


26  WHERE  YOUR  HEART  IS 

tation  and  championship  of  that  husband  and  father 
who  had  hugged  his  secret  to  himself  and  had  only  had 
it  wrested  from  him  by  that  Greater  Mystery  than  any 
earthly  secret. 

She  could  explain  him  because  she  could  understand 
him.  In  glowing  words,  in  dreamy  phrases,  in  soft, 
crooning  tones,  she  dwelt  on  the  magic  of  precious 
stones,  their  enthralling  power,  their  permeating  influ- 
ence, their  haunting  persistency.  She  told  how  you 
might  be  dominated  by  the  passion  for  them,  tormented 
by  hunger  and  thirst  of  spirit  for  some  special  gem 
stone  on  which  you  had  set  your  heart  and  riveted  your 
eyes,  and  not  be  appeased  until  you  had  secured  it  and 
added  it  to  your  collection  —  yes,  and  revelled  in  the 
secret  possession  of  it.  She  said  this  passion  was  in 
some  sense  detached,  impersonal,  a  passion  of  rapturous 
enthusiasm  not  necessarily  of  greed,  and  not  inspired 
by  selfishness  nor  the  desire  to  wound,  to  hurt,  to  slight, 
to  deprive.  In  her  own  life,  for  instance,  she  could  tell 
them  that  .over  and  over  again  her  own  passion  for 
precious  stones  had  swept  aside  the  most  pressing  claims 
of  her  other  passion,  business  —  good  business. 

"  If  you  knew  me,"  she  said,  "  you  would  understand 
that  if  that  was  possible  in  my  case,  anything  would  be 
possible  in  any  other  case." 

And  turning  to  Marion,  she  said: 

"  Do  you  see,  perhaps,  why,  even  though  loving  you 
dearly  and  knowing  you  cared  for  pretty  things,  he 
could  not  bring  himself  to  spare  you  so  much  as  even 
a  little  seed  pearl  ?  " 

"  I  think  I  see,"  she  answered  in  a  low  voice. 

"  Of  course  she  sees,"  Tom  put  in.  "  Any  idiot 
would  after  what  you've  been  telling  us." 


WHERE  YOUR  HEART  IS  27 

He  had  voiced  their  general  feeling.  Wonder,  spec- 
ulation, resentment,  grief,  soreness,  bitterness  would 
surge  up  again  in  their  separate  breasts,  but  T.  Scott 
had  rounded  off  some  of  the  edge  of  the  knife  which  had 
wounded  them. 

She  had  the  satisfaction  of  knowing  that  very  night 
that  her  championship  of  Mr.  Thornton,  her  comrade 
in  spirit,  had  not  been  in  vain.  For  when  she  was  in 
her  room  and  was  warming  herself  by  the  fire,  there 
came  a  knock  at  the  door.  On  opening  it,  she  found 
Mrs.  Thornton  standing  on  the  threshold. 

"  I  came  to  see  that  you  had  everything  you  wanted," 
she  said. 

"  Everything,"  Tamar  assured  her.  "  More  than 
everything.  I'm  not  accustomed  to  a  lovely  fire  in  my 
bedroom.  Will  you  not  be  seated  for  a  moment  and 
warm  your  hands?  " 

"  It  is  cold  on  the  moor,"  Mrs.  Thornton  said,  "  and 
this  is  a  specially  cold  room.  I  am  glad  that  they've 
made  up  a  good  fire  for  you.  No,  I  won't  detain  you 
now.  I  am  sure  you  must  be  tired." 

But  still  she  lingered,  and  it  was  evident  that  she  had 
something  she  wished  to  say,  but  that  she  could  not 
make  up  her  mind  to  give  utterance  to  it.  She  was  no 
longer  tearful  and  tremulous  with  emotion,  but,  on  the 
contrary,  a  serene  and  dignified  presence,  calm  with  a 
new-found  hope  and  a  larger  vision.  Tamar  stared  at 
her  and  wondered.  At  last  she  left  the  fireplace  where 
she  had  been  standing  and  passed  to  the  door.  There 
she  paused. 

"  Something  lost  recovered"  she  murmured  with  a 
most  wonderful  spiritual  expression  on  her  countenance 
which  Tamar  never  forgot.  The  door  closed  on  her; 


28  WHERE  YOUR  HEART  IS 

and  Tamar,  alone,  paced  up  and  down  repeating  her 
words. 

About  ten  minutes  later  she  was  visited  by  Marion 
who  made  no  excuse  for  disturbing  her,  and  went 
through  no  preliminaries. 

"  I  could  not  go  to  sleep  tonight  without  telling  you 
how  you  have  helped  me,"  she  said  simply.  "  I've  loved 
Father  dearly,  and  I  couldn't  bear  to  think  how  he  had 
shut  me  out  in  the  cold.  You  see,  we've  been  so  much 
together,  he  and  I.  He  knew  perfectly  well  that  I 
adored  jewellery  and  nice  clothes  and  all  that  sort  of 
thing.  He  used  to  tease  me  on  the  subject,  but  always 
took  my  part  when  Winifred  was  '  superior.'  She 
hadn't  the  least  inclination  that  way,  but  I  had.  And 
he  knew.  And  you'd  think  he  would  have  had  the  im- 
pulse once  or  twice  to  gratify  me,  when  all  the  time  he 
was  keeping  those  wonderful  jewels  under  our  very 
noses  —  but  hidden  away  safely.  It  upset  me  awfully 
—  I've  just  felt  he  couldn't  have  loved  me  at  all  — 
that's  the  part  which  has  really  upset  me  —  oh,  I  don't 
pretend  that  I  shouldn't  have  adored  the  jewels  in  any 
case,  but  as  gifts  from  him  they  would  have  been  a 
thousand  times  more  valuable,  because,  you  see,  he  has 
meant  so  much  to  me  —  and  I  did  believe  I  meant  a  lit- 
tle to  him  —  and  then  suddenly  all  affection  seemed 
turned  into  a  mockery  and  a  farce.  That  is  what  poor 
old  Mother  has  felt.  But  now  you've  explained  him  — 
I  think  you're  quite  wonderful  —  you've  made  me  un- 
derstand. You've  been  awfully  good  to  us  —  I  wish 
you  could  hear  what  the  boys  are  saying  about  you  — 
and  Mother  —  dear  old  Mother,  and  even  Wini- 
fred. .  .  ." 

At   that   moment   Winifred   herself   arrived  on   the 


WHERE  YOUR  HEART  IS  29 

scene,  making-  as  an  excuse  for  her  intrusion  that  she 
had  come  to  fetch  Marion,  who  must  not  be  allowed 
to  keep  their  visitor  any  longer  from  her  rest. 

"  I  am  sure  you  must  be  tired  out,"  she  said.  "  Come 
along,  Marion.  I  want  to  speak  to  you  about  some- 
thing." 

And  she  added,  with  some  degree  of  nervousness  and 
with  far  less  superiority  of  manner: 

"  You've  given  us  a  remarkable  lesson  in  psychology 
tonight,  Miss  Scott.  It  has  been  deeply  interesting 
and  helpful.  Good-night." 

Tamar,  left  alone  at  last,  suddenly  realized  that  she 
was  thoroughly  played  out  and  exhausted.  The  early 
start  from  London  in  the  morning,  the  long  journey, 
the  delight  over  the  stones,  the  unusual  interest  attach- 
ing to  the  circumstances  and  the  royal  way  in  which 
she  had  spent  herself  during  the  evening  for  these  peo- 
ple and  given  them  of  her  best,  had  told  on  her  nerves. 
She  threw  herself  on  the  bed  without  undressing,  and 
lay  half  asleep,  half  awake,  with  thoughts  focussed  on 
the  surroundings  in  which  she  found  herself.  And  al- 
ways there  rose  before  her  a  vision  of  Mr.  Thornton 
bending  over  his  treasures  in  that  locked  library,  revel- 
ling in  them,  hiding  them  afresh  and  then  gazing  up  to 
the  bookcase  and  smiling  perhaps,  because  he  knew  they 
were  safe  from  prying  eyes  and  the  chance  of  suspicious 
search.  Yes,  yes,  she  understood  him  well.  She  could 
follow  the  workings  of  his  mind.  She  could  sympa- 
thize with  his  emotions  of  pride  and  joy  when  he  con- 
templated his  beautiful  specimens  chosen  so  wisely,  so 
carefully,  and  with  such  expert  knowledge.  She  could 
even  surmise  some  of  the  struggles  he  must  have  inter- 


30  WHERE  YOUR  HEART  IS 

mittently  made  to  throw  off  the  spell  under  which  he 
was  being  held,  and  to  rid  himself  of  the  bondage  for 
the  sake  of  those  he  loved.  She  could  almost  hear  him 
whispering : 

"  Some  day  I  shall  tell  them  —  show  them  —  share 
with,  them.  But  not  today." 

And  such  stones.  Almost  a  faultless  judgment  he 
appeared  to  have. 

And  where  were  the  spinels? 

The  more  she  thought  about  the  collection,  the  more 
convinced  she  became  that  tnere  must  be  spinels  some- 
where, and  that  he  would  never  have  been  content  with- 
out even  one  or  two  varieties  of  these  very  interesting 
blood  relations  of  the  ruby,  which  she  herself  greatly 
admired  for  their  diversity  of  beautiful  colouring  and 
particularly  for  the  pale  delicate  shades  unlike  any 
other  precious  stones.  It  was  inconceivable  that  he 
should  not  have  acquired  a  few  specimens,  if  not  the 
*'  flame-red  "  spinel  itself,  with  its  burning  coal  effect, 
a  very  rare  stone  and  greatly  appreciated  by  connois- 
seurs. No,  the  spinels  were  somewhere,  and  perhaps 
other  gems  with  them.  But  where?  If  not  in  any 
other  dummy  books,  where,  then? 

At  l~st,  having  worn  out  her  brain  with  vague  but 
persistent  conjecture,  she  fell  fast  asleep,  and  dreamed 
about  them. 

She  was  searching  for  them  in  her  own  shop,  taking 
now  a  ruby,  now  an  opal,  now  an  aquamarine  out  of 
her  own  safe,  and  believing  each  time  that  she  had  at 
length  unearthed  the  missing  spinels,  and  then  laughing 
at  her  own  stupidity  as  she  recognized  instead  the  fa- 
miliar and  dearly-prized  objects  of  her  own  collection. 
Suddenly  the  scene  and  circumstance  changed.  She 


WHERE  YOUR  HEART  IS  31 

found  herself  mounting  laboriously  a  steep  hill  which 
led  to  a  village  on  the  edge  of  a  moor.  It  was  a  dark 
night,  and  the  wind  blew  strong  and  cold.  She  longed 
to  be  in  the  shelter  of  her  shop  in  Dean  Street,  and 
wondered  why  she  had  taken  this  journey  to  the  wilds 
of  Yorkshire.  The  fee  she  would  get  was  not  worth 
the  toil  of  the  ascent  nor  the  battling  with  the  elements. 
She  pressed  on  without  a  pause  until  she  reached  the 
blacksmith's  forge,  where  some  one  in  the  dim  past,  aeons 
ago,  had  told  her  to  rest  and  recover  her  breath  before 
she  attacked  the  remaining  and  still  more  fatiguing  half 
of  the  climb.  A  tall  man,  with  a  thin  face  and  with  lan- 
tern jaws,  suddenly  came  round  the  corner,  and  said  to 
her  with  a  slight  stutter: 

"  I've  been  expecting  you  to  come.  I  want  to  show 
you  my  spinels  —  especially  my  '  flame-red  '  spinel. 
You'll  envy  it,  I  know.  It  is  a  very  beautiful  one." 

"  Ah,"  she  said,  "  I  thought  you'd  have  spinels  some- 
where." 

"  Of  course,"  he  said,  "  but  I've  changed  my  hiding- 
place." 

And  he  laughed  softly,  and  rubbed  his  hands  with  a 
sly  glee,  and  she  laughed  softly  too,  in  complete  sym- 
pathy with  her  comrade  in  spirit  whom  she  understood 
so  well.  Again  the  scene  changed  suddenly,  and  she 
was  alone  in  a  room  which  after  a  time  she  recognized 
as  Mr.  Thornton's  library,  where  she  and  the  Thornton 
children  had  previously  searched  in  vain  for  the  spinels 
which  she  was  certain  must  be  hidden  away  somewhere. 
She  did  not  search  now.  Her  eyes  were  riveted  on  an 
old  Bible  box  in  the  corner,  dated  1640,  piled  up  with 
old  books  and  papers  yellow  with  age  and  apparently 
undisturbed  by  meddling,  tidying  hands  —  one  of  those 


32  WHERE  YOUR  HEART  IS 

precious  rubbish  heaps,  in  fact,  inviolate  by  reason  of 
the  hopeless  task  involved  in  reducing  its  chaos  to  an 
ordered  perfection. 

"  Not  there,  surely?  "  she  said.  And,  as  if  in  reply, 
she  heard  the  echo  of  a  soft  laugh.  Then,  with  a  thrill 
of  excitement,  she  almost  leapt  towards  the  uncompro- 
mising stack,  and  was  on  the  point  of  lifting  off  some 
of  the  top  papers  —  when  she  awoke.  Outside,  the 
wind  was  raging  as  she  had  heard  it  in  her  dream,  and 
she  shivered  and  shuddered  from  cold  and  a  nameless 
fear,  and  crept  to  the  fire,  which,  though  low  in  the 
grate,  was  still  sending  out  a  comforting  warmth  and  a 
reassuring  glow. 

"  A  dream,"  she  said,  still  half  dazed.  "  Even  in  my 
dreams  I  cannot  get  those  spinels  out  of  my  head. 
Perhaps  if  I  have  a  good  warm  and  go  to  bed  properly, 
I  shall  forget  about  them  and  sleep  in  peace." 

But  no  peace  came,  and  no  desire  for  rest.  Her 
nerves  were  tingling  with  a  strange  excitement,  and  she 
became  obsessed  with  the  memory  of  her  dream,  recalled 
every  detail  of  it,  and  even  heard  the  echo  of  that  soft 
laugh  borne  to  her,  now  from  this  direction,  now  from 
that.  It  impelled  her  to  take  action,  against  her  will, 
against  her  physical  inclination ;  but  she  had  no  power 
to  resist  the  imperiousness  of  its  appeal,  and  she  lit  a 
candle,  opened  the  door  cautiously,  and  stood  on  the 
landing  hesitating,  half  hoping  to  hear  in  the  house 
some  sound  of  life  which  would  decide  her  to  return  to 
her  own  quarters.  Finally  she  did  return,  but  only  to 
fetch  some  gloves.  It  struck  her  they  were  necessary 
for  secrecy. 

There  was  no  sound  except  the  raging  of  the  wind 
and  the  ticking  of  the  great  clock  in  the  hall.  The 


WHERE  YOUR  HEART  IS  33 

coast  was  clear  for  her  to  go  downstairs  and  continue 
that  search  urged  on  her  in  the  first  instance  by  her  own 
instinct,  and  now  by  some  power  outside  her  control. 
She  went  down  the  stairs  quickly  but  with  an  entire 
noiselessness,  and  passed  along  the  passage  on  the  left 
which  she  remembered  led  to  the  library.  The  next 
moment  she  opened  the  door,  closed  it,  and  stood  alone 
in  Mr.  Thornton's  sanctum,  where  he  had  held  his  revels 
and  fostered  his  secret  aims  and  ambitions.  With  a 
trembling  hand  Tamar  raised  the  candle,  and  saw  in  the 
corner  the  Bible  box  with  its  super-imposed  burden  of 
papers,  documents  and  books.  Instantly  her  nervous- 
ness, her  reluctance,  were  dispelled  as 'though  by  magic. 
She  leapt  to  it  exactly  as  she  had  leapt  in  her  dream, 
and  without  a  moment's  hesitation  began  removing  the 
piled-up  barricade  guarding  the  object  of  her  search. 
In  her  excitement  she  almost  tore  some  of  the  things 
down,  so  frantically  eager  was  she  to  learn  whether  she 
had  in  very  truth  been  prompted  to  the  real  place  of 
concealment,  or  whether  her  dream  had  been  merely  a 
delusion,  a  senseless  nothing,  like  so  many  of  our 
dreams. 

At  last  she  reached  the  Bible  box,  but  instead  of 
opening  it,  she  remained  on  her  knees  staring  at  it, 
fumbling  with  the  unlocked  clasp,  fiercely  anxious  to 
raise  the  lid  —  and  yet  unwilling  to  risk  a  possible  dis- 
appointment. Then  she  took  courage  and  opened  the 
Bible  box.  She  found  an  old  backgammon  box  inside, 
which  she  lifted  out  with  trembling  hands.  She  opened 
it,  and  gave  a  low  cry  when  she  saw  that  it  contained 
precious  stones  of  various  kinds.  She  bore  it  to  the 
writing-desk,  where  she  had  placed  the  candle,  and  pro- 
ceeded to  examine  the  stones. 


34  WHERE  YOUR  HEART  IS 

Yes,  there  were  the  spinels,  quite  a  number  of  them, 
and  amongst  them  a  perfect  "  flame-red  "  spinel,  of  rare 
beauty,  and  in  addition  several  emeralds,  mossy,  but  of 
lovely  colour,  an  alexandrite  cat's-eye,  two  cornflower 
blue  sapphires,  many  opals,  some  fine  aquamarines,  a 
few  red  tourmalines  of  remarkable  transparency,  two 
or  three  very  choice  specimens  of  turquoise,  several 
"  fancy  "  sapphires,  a  star  sapphire,  a  rose-pink  beryl, 
many  other  stones  of  varying  interest  or  value,  and  last, 
but  not  least,  four  perfectly  round  pearls  of  unrivalled 
lustre,  and  without  blemish. 

As  soon  as  she  discovered  these  pearls,  she  desired 
them  fiercely.  She  yearned  to  possess  them,  both  for 
their  beauty  and  their  worth.  Her  passion  was  aroused, 
her  avarice  was  excited  by  them.  She  asked  herself  why 
should  she  not  have  them,  why  should  she  not  take  them. 
No  one  would  know.  There  they  were,  given  into  her 
hands.  Not  a  soul  in  the  world  would  be  the  wiser  if 
she  took  them.  Were  they  not,  in  fact,  almost  her 
right,  since  she  had  unearthed  them?  The  people  up- 
stairs would  never  miss  what  they  had  not  seen  or 
known,  and  as  for  robbing  them,  well,  had  they  not 
already  come  unexpectedly  into  a  respectable  fortune 
big  enough  to  content  any  family,  who,  from  what  she 
could  learn,  had  feared  they  had  to  face,  if  not  poverty, 
at  least  very  small  means? 

"  They  are  so  beautiful,"  she  kept  on  whispering. 
"  I  want  them.  I  don't  want  the  other  things.  I  won't 
touch  the  other  things.  But  I  want  the  pearls.  I  must 
have  them.  No  one  will  know." 

She  passed  through  an  agony  of  sore  temptation, 
pocketed  them  once3  restored  them,  reclaimed  them, 


WHERE  YOUR  HEART  IS  35 

stood  possessed  of  them,  tense  but  triumphant  —  and 
then  shook  her  head,  slowly  and  sorrowfully. 

"  No,"  she  said.     «  No." 

She  replaced  them  with  a  deep  sigh  and,  as  if  afraid 
of  further  temptation,  closed  the  box  hurriedly,  put  it 
back  into  the  Bible  box,  and  built  up  the  stack  of  books 
and  papers  with  feverish  haste  but  clear  remembrance  of 
detail.  She  glanced  at  it  critically,  to  make  sure  that 
it  retained  its  appearance  of  undisturbed  neglect, 
snatched  up  the  candle,  fled  from  the  library  and  gained 
her  room  in  safety. 


CHAPTER  III 

WHEN  Tamar  awoke  that  morning,  she  remem- 
bered instantly  her  dream,  the  events  of  the 
night,  her  temptation  and  her  resistance.  She  was 
happy  that  she  had  not  yielded  to  the  amazing  oppor- 
tunity of  securing  secretly  those  beautiful  and  valuable 
pearls,  although  she  would  not  have  been  human  not  to 
regret  the  loss  of  them  as  possessions  and  also  as  com- 
mercial possibilities.  But  it  was  a  distinct  relief  to 
know  that  her  honour  was  intact,  at  least  on  this  occa- 
sion, and  that  she  had  not  failed  in  fidelity  to  Mrs. 
Thornton  and  those  young  people  who  had  welcomed 
her  so  kindly,  nor  turned  traitor  to  the  man  whom  she 
had  been  championing  and  interpreting  with  an  under- 
standing inspired  by  a  kindred  enthusiasm.  She  said 
that  she  would  have  been  doubly  ashamed  of  herself  if 
she  had  used  to  her  own  advantage  the  revelation  vouch- 
safed to  her  in  her  dream.  For  in  some  mysterious  way 
he  had  communed  with  her,  shown  his  trust  in  her, 
guided  her;  and  disloyalty  to  him  would  have  been  an 
infinitely  worse  sin  than  to  any  member  of  his  family, 
since  he  was  powerless  to  punish  her  and  avenge  him- 
self. Yet,  on  reflection,  she  would  have  hated,  too,  to 
rob  Tom,  Rupert,  Marion,  even  Winifred,  and  above 
all  their  mother,  to  whom,  by  her  help  —  Tamar's  help 
— "  something  lost  had  been  restored,"  something  more 
precious  than  rubies  —  an  ultimate  belief  in  love. 
"  As  for  the  temptation,"  Tamar  said  aloud,  as  if  in 

answer  to  an  accuser,  "  don't  read  me  any  moral  lecture 

36 


WHERE  YOUR  HEART  IS  37 

on  that  subject.  Most  of  us  would  like  to  steal  if  we 
had  a  good  and  a  safe  chance.  We  may  not  own  to  the 
impulse,  perhaps.  And  often  we  do  not  succumb  to  it. 
But  it  is  there." 

And  she  added,  with  a  sigh  of  profound  regret : 
"  Ah,  those  four  pearls  took  a  lot  of  resisting  —  such 
a  colour,  such  a  skin,  such  a  lustre ! " 

She  told  the  family  nothing  about  her  dream  nor 
her  discovery ;  but  after  she  had  gone  carefully  through 
the  collection  again,  applied  various  tests  and  modified 
or  verified  her  verdicts  of  the  previous  night,  she  urged 
on  them  the  duty  and  the  necessity  of  making  a  thor- 
ough search  in  every  corner  of  the  library.  In  fact  she 
insisted  on  it,  for  the  purposes  of  the  valuation. 

"  I  am  still  convinced  that  there  must  be  more  stones 
somewhere,"  she  said  to  the  young  people.  "  I  shall 
be  very  surprised  if  you  do  not  find  spinels.  It  seems 
incredible  that  Mr.  Thornton  should  not  have  had  a 
flame-red  spinel.  If  I  were  you,  I  would  open  every 
drawer,  every  box,  every  parcel  of  papers  —  everything, 
in  fact,  especially  that  which  would  not  seem  to  promise 
or  suggest  secrecy.  For  there  is  no  denying  the  fact 
that  your  father  was  —  peculiar." 

"  Cheerioh,"  Tom  said  with  a  merry  wink.  "  Mad,  I 
should  think." 

"  Oh,  Tom,  don't,"  Winifred  interposed  severely. 

"  Hang  it,  can't  we  say  what  we  all  think,  now  that 
Mother  isn't  here?  "  he  returned.  "  Of  course  he  was 
sort  of  mad.  An  awfully  jolly  madness,  I  admit.  I 
wonder  whether  we've  all  inherited  it,  and  are  all  hiding 
valuable  treasures  in  out-of-the-way  places.  I  believe 
Winifred  is.  I  think  I'd  better  go  and  look  in  her 


38  WHERE  YOUR  HEART  IS 

sponge-bag.  Rupert,  old  chap,  do  you  happen  to  have 
anything  tucked  away  snugly  amongst  your  fishing 
tackle?" 

"  Well,"  Marion  said,  "  I  vote  we  don't  say  anything 
to  Mother  unless  we  find  something.  She  seems  so 
much  happier  today.  It  would  be  a  pity  to  upset  her." 

"  Yes,  we  must  leave  the  Mater  out  of  it  for  the  mo- 
ment," Rupert  said.  "But  of  course  Miss  Scott  is 
right  to  insist.  We  ought  to  turn  everything  inside 
out." 

"  Come  on,  I'm  ready,"  Tom  said.  "  You'll  help  too, 
won't  you,  Miss  Scott?  " 

But  Tamar  shook  her  head  and  rose  from  the  table. 

"  No,"  she  answered  brusquely.  "  That's  your  af- 
fair, not  mine.  As  I  am  here,  I  don't  mind  waiting  for 
two  or  three  hours  more  whilst  you  make  the  search, 
and  I'll  go  on  the  moor.  But  .  .  ." 

She  hesitated  a  moment,  and  then  suddenly  her  com- 
mercial instincts  got  the  better  of  her  friendliness,  and 
she  added: 

"  But  my  time  is  valuable.  I  shall  expect  my  fee  to 
be  increased  by  reason  of  the  unusual  circumstances." 

They  glanced  at  her  in  astonishment.  She  had 
shown  them  up  to  this  moment  such  an  entirely  differ- 
ent side  of  her  nature  that  they  were  altogether  unpre- 
pared for  the  transformation  in  her  manner,  in  her 
very  expression  of  countenance,  in  her  outlook  on  life. 
It  was  as  though  they  had  received  a  tremendous  shock 
from  an  unexpected  quarter;  and  they  had  to  recover 
from  it  before  they  could  even  begin  to  see  the  incident 
in  'its  proper  light.  After  all,  this  stranger  had  only 
come  amongst  them  on  a  business  errand.  If  they  had 
been  forgetting  the  object  of  her  visit,  it  was  evident 


WHERE  YOUR  HEART  IS  39 

that  she  had  not.  This  was  Rupert's  view  of  the  mat- 
ter, as  he  drew  himself  up  almost  imperceptibly,  and 
said,  with  an  almost  imperceptible  curl  of  the  lips : 

"  Of  course  your  fee  will  be  increased  by  reason  of 
the  unusual  circumstances." 

Tamar  showed  no  sign  that  she  had  noticed  either 
their  amazement  or  the  slight  tone  of  contempt  in  Ru- 
pert's answer.  She  merely  nodded  'as  if  satisfied  that 
the  matter  had  been  decided,  and  went  upstairs  to  fetch 
her  coat  and  hat. 

"  Well,  I'm  blessed,  she  has  got  her  eye  on  her  money, 
hasn't  she?"  Tom  said. 

"  Why  shouldn't  she,  Tom?  "  asked  Marion  warmly. 
"  You've  got  your  eye  on  yours." 

"  We  are  entire  strangers  to  her,"  remarked  Rupert. 
"  Why  should  she  give  her  time  to  us  for  nothing?  " 

"  If  you  thought  like  that,  why  did  you  treat  her  to 
a  little  dose  of  contempt,  old  thing?  "  said  Tom  with 
one  of  his  grins.  "  It  nearly  withered  me  up." 

"  Couldn't  help  it,"  he  answered.  "  I  was  so  sur- 
prised. I  hope  she  didn't  notice  it." 

"  I'm  not  so  sure,"  Winifred  said.  "  I  think  I'll  fol- 
low her  on  to  the  moor." 

"  You'd  better  not,"  Tom  said.  "  I  may  bag  some 
of  your  share  of  the  fresh  plunder  if  we  find  any. 
Come  on,  girls ;  come  on,  Rupe.  We've  got  to  see  this 
thing  through.  Perhaps  we're  going  to  dig  out  an- 
other thousand  or  two.  Here,  you  can  all  go  ahead, 
whilst  I  just  run  after  her  and  make  sure  she's  not 
using  a  cambric  handkerchief." 

"  I'll  come  too,"  Marion  said  eagerly. 

"  I'm  coming  also,"  Winifred  said  decidedly. 

"  I  ought  to  be  the  one  to  go,  since  I  did  the  stunt,*' 


40  WHERE  YOUR  HEART  IS 

said  Rupert.  "  I'd  like  to  go.  She  has  only  just 
started.  I  shall  soon  catch  her  up.  You  others  get  to 
work,  and  I'll  be  back  in  a  few  minutes." 

So  it  was  the  sound  of  Rupert's  voice  which  made 
Tamar  turn  round  on  the  moor.  She  went  to  meet 
him  as  he  came  towards  her,  and  it  crossed  her  mind 
that  here  was  a  man  who  had  sacrificed  health  and 
youthful  strength  for  his  country,  which  really  meant 
for  thousands  and  thousands  of  people  who  were  noth- 
ing to  him  except  representatives  of  an  idea  —  and  here 
was  herself,  a  grasping,  avaricious  woman,  who  had 
claimed  extra  payment  for  two  or  three  hours'  delay. 
No  wonder  he  had  not  been  able  to  conceal  the  con- 
tempt he  had  felt.  What  did  he  want  with  her  now? 

"  I  say,"  he  said  cheerily,  "  I've  come  to  tell  you  that 
it's  awfully  marshy  over  to  the  left  there,  past  that 
disused  quarry.  They  all  wanted  to  come  and  warn 
you,  but  I  snuffed  them  all  out  and  bagged  the  job." 

She  nodded. 

"Thank  you,"  she  said.  "I'll  look  out.  I  don't 
often  go  for  walks.  The  country  does  not  interest  me 
as  a  rule.  But  I  must  say  that  this  is  a  wonderful 
scene." 

"  Yes,"  he  said,  "  I  often  used  to  think  of  these  moors 
when  I  was  at  the  front." 

"  Search  that  room  well,"  she  said.  "  Don't  hurry 
over  it.  I  don't  suppose  I'm  really  so  pressed  for  time. 
And  .  .  ." 

She  hesitated,  and  flushed  a  little.  Capitulation  was 
never  easy  to  Tamar,  but  that  wonderful  expanse  of 
wild  moorland  helped  her. 

"  I  take  back  what  I  said  about  an  extra  fee,"  she 
blurted  out  at  last.  "  I  don't  want  it." 


WHERE  YOUR  HEART  IS  41 

She  turned  from  him  abruptly,  and  struck  off  on  a 
track  to  the  right.  The  dead  heather  and  ling,  brown 
as  the  dying  bracken,  but  inter  jewelled  with  lingering 
heliotrope  tints,  was  caught  by  the  sun  in  a  glow  of 
radiant  redness,  the  deep,  fiery  red  of  a  blood  orange. 
Then  a  cloud  came,  and  the  moor  settled  into  sombre- 
ness,  but  broke  out  once  more  into  an  increased  re- 
splendency as  the  sun  emerged  and  worked  its  will  on 
the  autumn  glories  of  Nature. 

Tamar,  unaccustomed  to  watch  Nature,  uninterested 
in  its  varying  phases  and  manifestations,  was  never- 
theless held  in  wonder  by  the  beauty  which  met  her  eyes, 
by  the  rolling  expanse,  by  moor  rising  above  moor  in 
the  distance,  by  the  black  clouds  casting  their  shadows 
now  here,  now  there,  by  the  -sunshine  with  its  fitful 
triumphs,  by  the  long  grass  shimmering  with  light  and 
answering  to  the  many  voices  of  the  wind.  The  clean, 
strong  air  swept  through  her,  invigorating,  purifying, 
liberating.  She  became  aware,  perhaps  for  the  first 
time,  that  her  aims,  her  plans  were  extraordinarily 
small,  and  that  the  horizon  in  her  shop  in  Dean  Street 
was  painfully  limited.  Once  or  twice  her  friend,  Chris- 
topher Bramfield,  had  hinted  at  this,  and  she  had 
promptly  snubbed  him.  Had  he  been  right?  Cer- 
tainly for  the  moment,  very  unimportant  seemed  to  her 
the  successful  business  deals  on  which  she  prided  her- 
self, the  precious  stones  on  which  she  set  such  store, 
and  infinitely  contemptible  the  impulses  of  avarice, 
which  more  often  than  not  determined  her  courses  of 
action.  At  the  back  of  her  brain  she  knew  that  all 
values  would  return  to  their  proper  traditional  pro- 
portions in  her  estimate,  but  for  this  brief  spell  they 
had  shrunk  to  skin  and  bone. 


42  WHERE  YOUR  HEART  IS 

Yet  she  argued  with  herself,  too.  Why  should  she 
be  ashamed  of  her  greed  ?  She  had  never  been  ashamed 
before.  There  was  no  earthly  reason,  for  instance, 
why  she  should  have  prolonged  her  stay  amongst  these 
people,  except  for  the  advantage  of  an  additional  fee. 
That  was  the  right  way  to  look  at  it.  But  when  she 
had  arrived  at  this  consoling  conclusion,  the  figure  of 
Rupert,  broken  in  the  war,  rose  before  her  mind's  eye. 
She  caught  once  more  the  fleeting  expression  of  con- 
tempt on  his  face,  and  she  watched  him  limping  towards 
her,  the  bearer  of  a  healing  message  to  obliterate  the 
scar  of  scorn.  And  again  she  was  ashamed. 

Her  mind  turned  to  the  war.  The  sight,  the  thought 
of  his  permanent  disablement  arrested  her  attention  and 
aroused  her  sympathy.  It  was  the  first  occasion  on 
which  she  had  been  brought  into  any  personal  relation- 
ship with  any  one  who  had  taken  part  in  the  war. 
So  far,  the  war  had  meant  nothing  to  her  except  in  so 
much  as  it  enabled  her  to  drive  a  good  bargain  with 
those  who  came  in  their  impoverished  circumstances  to 
dispose  of  their  valuables.  She  had  shown  herself,  as 
always,  relentless  towards  these  clients;  and  no  tales 
of  distress,  and  no  pleas  on  behalf  of  soldiers,  sailors, 
mine-sweepers  or  refugees  had  ever  induced  her  to  relax 
her  demands.  Except  for  the  giving  of  an  occasional 
cheque,  after  much  reluctance  and  primarily  to  ease 
her  own  conscience,  and  to  appease  Bramficld,  who,  so 
she  considered,  was  ridiculously  interested  in  public  af- 
fairs, Tamar  had  pursued  her  own  unalterable  course, 
untouched  by  the  tremendous  world-upheaval,  by  the 
tragic  happenings  of  each  day,  by  joyful  tidings  from 
the  front,  by  ominous  silences,  by  rumours  of  disaster, 
and  stories  of  incredible  cruelty  and  barbarism,  by  Bel- 


WHERE  YOUR  HEART  IS  43 

gium's  agony  and  France's  noble  endurance  and  our 
own  record  of  British  courage  and  sacrifice.  Chang- 
ing politicians,  pacifists,  conscientious  objectors,  and 
pro-Germans  had  held  equal  rank  of  an  entire  insignifi- 
cance in  her  mind.  The  claims  of  a  whole  universe  in 
travail  had  failed  to  break  in  upon  her  concentration 
on  personal  affairs  within  the  four  walls  of  that  narrow 
world  in  Dean  Street. 

And  at  that  time  this  was  as  true  of  thousands  of 
other  people  as  of  Tamar.  The  message  had  not 
reached  them.  They  took  care  that  it  should  not  reach 
them,  even  as  Tamar  had  taken  care. 

She  protected  herself  now.  She  switched  her  mind 
off  from  thoughts  of  the  war  aroused  by  Rupert  Thorn- 
ton's disablement,  and  switched  it  on  to  the  collection 
of  precious  stones  in  Marton  Grange.  Yes,  that  star 
ruby  was  very  beautiful,  but  not  so  perfect  as  the  one 
she  had  at  present.  Would  she  care  to  acquire  any  of 
the  gems  for  herself?  Well,  she  must  think  over  that 
matter.  But  there  was  no  need  to  think  twice  where 
those  four  glorious  pearls  were  concerned.  Those  she 
must  and  would  have  at  any  cost.  What  would  she 
have  to  pay  for  them?  Something  in  the  neighbour- 
hood of  two  thousand  pounds,  she  supposed,  unless  she 
could  manage  to  drive  a  hard  bargain  and  get  them 
for  a  few  hundred  pounds  less.  Perhaps  that  would  be 
possible.  She  shook  her  head. 

"  No,"  she  said  aloud.  "  I  must  not  behave  badly 
if  I  can  help  it.  I  must  pay  a  fair  price  to  these  peo- 
ple." 

And  she  repeated  with  a  sigh : 

"  It  will  have  to  be  something  in  the  neighbourhood 
of  two  thousand  pounds,  I  fear." 


44  WHERE  YOUR  HEART  IS 

Then  she  began  to  wonder  whether  the  Thorntons 
had  by  now  discovered  the  Bible  box  and  the  treasures 
it  contained.  If  they  did  not  interfere  with  that  pile  of 
papers,  how  was  she  to  put  them  on  the  track  without 
betraying  the  fact  that  she  herself  had  already  been 
exploring?  How  could  she  direct  them?  She  could 
not  direct  .them  at  all.  Of  course  she  could  not.  It 
would  be  folly.  Out  of  protection  to  herself,  she  must 
remain  silent  and  keep  her  own  counsel.  Suppos- 
ing she  did  tell  them  what  she  had  found  in  the 
night?  Naturally,  they  could  not  be  entirely  sure  that 
she  had  left  the  contents  of  the  Bible  box  intact  and 
inviolate.  It  was  obvious,  then,  that  she  would  rest 
under  a  suspicion  which  was,  in  the  circumstances,  per- 
fectly natural  and  justifiable.  If  it  were  her  case,  she 
would  undoubtedly  take  that  view.  Of  course  she  must 
remain  silent. 

"  It  was  hard  enough  to  resist  stealing  those  pearls," 
she  said.  "  But  to  resist  and  then  run  the  chance  of 
being  suspected  —  no,  thank  you.  The  idea  might  not 
occur  to  the  others,  perhaps,  but  it  might  to  the  elder 
sister,  Winifred.  She  would  reason  it  out  on  psycho- 
logical grounds.  I  can  hear  her.  No,  it  wouldn't  be 
safe.  I  must  leave  the  matter  to  chance,  or  to  Tom. 
Mr.  Tom  will  surely  ferret  them  out." 

She  laughed  when  she  thought  of  Tom.  She  liked 
him  immensely.  She  liked  his  almost  brutal  frankness, 
half  of  it  the  outcome  of  high  spirits,  and  half  the  de- 
sire to  make  his  family  "  sit  up."  She  was  honestly 
glad  that  she  had  not  cheated  him  of  what  he  would 
have  called  "  his  plunder."  Indeed,  she  was  increas- 
ingly thankful  that  she  had  not  robbed  any  one  of  them, 
for  she  liked  them  all,  each  in  a  different  way.  They 


WHERE  YOUR  HEART  IS  45 

interested  her,  arrested  her.  She  rather  wondered  how 
Mr.  Thornton  had  been  able  to  concentrate  his  at- 
tention on  gems  and  maintain  a  truly  sinister  se- 
crecy in  the  midst  of  bright  presences  which  might 
well  have  evoked  other  sympathies  and  urged  other 
claims. 

Well,  but  at  least  he  had  had  his  wife  and  his  children 
to  whom  to  leave  his  treasures.  Probably  this  had 
been  his  justification  to  himself  both  for  his  indulgence 
and  his  secrecy.  He  might  even  have  been  encouraged 
by  the  consoling  reflection  that  he  was  accumulating 
treasure  which  would,  represent  a  fortune  to  them  when 
he  was  dead.  Her  own  mother,  whom  .Tamar  had 
adored,  and  from  whom  she  had  inherited  her  love  of 
precious  stones,  had  rejoiced  not  only  over  the  gems 
themselves,  but  over  the  wealth  which  she  was  amassing 
for  her  child. 

"  One  more  treasure  for  my  Tamar,"  she  had  said 
time  after  time. 

It  passed  through  Tamar's  mind  that  in  her  own  case 
no  love,  no  concern  for  others,  however  remote  or  shad- 
owy, had  ever  raised  her  own  passion  for  precious 
stones  to  a  higher  plane  than  the  one  it  now  belonged 
to  —  the  lust  of  rapturous  possession. 

When  she  at  length  returned  to  the  house,  Tom  came 
dashing  out  to  meet  her. 

"  I  say,"  he  cried,  "  we're  awfully  bucked.  We've 
found  some  more  stones  —  at  least,  I've  found  'em. 
And  where  do  you  think?  " 

Tamar  shook  her  head  innocently. 

"  I  haven't  an  idea,"  she  said,  smiling  a  dove-like 
smile  of  detached  innocence. 

"  Why,  in  that  rotten  old  Bible  box,  under  all  the 


46  WHERE  YOUR  HEART  IS 

rubbish-neap  in  the  corner,"  he  laughed.  "  Hidden 
away  in  an  ancient  backgammon  box.  Pearls  and  all 
sorts  of  things  —  spinels,  for  all  I  know.  Sly  old  fox, 
the  Governor!  Changed  his  hiding-place,  evidently! 
Come  along  and  tell  us  about  them.  We're  dying  to 
know.  I'll  go  and  break  the  sad  news  to  the  Mater,  and 
help  her  to  recover  from  her  preliminary  weep,  and 
then  bring  her  down  to  the  library.  You  really  are 
top-hole  to  have  put  us  on  the  scent." 

"  But  I  didn't  put  you  on  the  scent,"  she  said.  "  I 
—  I  wanted  to  —  but  — " 

"  Wanted  to,"  he  repeated.  "  Why,  it  was  your 
stunt  and  no  one  else's.  You  seemed  to  be  so  sure,  that 
you  made  us  all  sure  too.  So  we  persevered  and  turned 
everything  inside  out,  and  each  time  we  were  disap- 
pointed we  kept  on  saying  that  if  you  believed  it  there 
must  be  something  in  it,  and  that  you  evidently  under- 
stood the  old  Governor  and  knew  what  he  was  about. 
See?  " 

Tamar  never  disguised  her  feelings  better  than  when 
she  handled  the  newly-found  stones,  passed  judgment 
on  them  and  gave  her  opinion  of  their  respective  values. 
If  her  hands  trembled  when  she  touched  the  coveted 
pearls,  no  one  noticed.  The  quiet  indifference  which 
she  assumed  when  she  remarked  that  she  would  rather 
like  the  first  refusal  of  them,  masked  to  perfection  her 
yearning  over  them,  her  desire  for  them,  her  familiarity 
with  them.  The  only  sign  of  enthusiasm  she  allowed 
herself  to  show  was  over  the  spinels.  There  she  was  on 
safe  ground. 

"I  knew  that  he  would  have  spinels,"  she  said  tri- 
umphantly, "  and  beautiful  ones  too.  These  are  very 
fine  and  interesting.  And  this  is  what  is  called  a 


WHERE  YOUR  HEART  IS  47 

*  flame-red '   spinel.     It  is   rare  and  valuable.     I  felt 
sure  he  would  have  it." 

"  It  would  interest  me  greatly  to  know  how  you  were 
led  to  that  conclusion,"  Winifred  remarked  senten- 
tiously. 

Tamar  smiled  indulgently. 

"  I  could  not  explain,"  she  said.  "  I  admire  them 
so  much  that  perhaps  I  am  biassed  and  think  every  one 
ought  to  prize  them.  Their  range  of  colour  alone 
makes  them  very  interesting  stones,  and  they  are  ex- 
ceedingly decorative.  Queen  Elizabeth  thought  so. 
She  had  several  amongst  her  jewels.  Look  at  this 

*  flame-red  '  one,  Mr.  Tom.     Don't  you  see  the  coal  fire 
all  aglow  in  it?     That's  worth  a  nice  little  sum." 

"  Let's  hope,"  said  Tom  with  a  grin,  "  that  you'll  be 
seized  with  a  whole  series  of  convictions  that  there  are 
more  jewels  hidden  away  somewhere  or  other  in  Marton 
Grange.  Send  me  a  wire,  and  I'll  ferret  them  out  soon 
enough  —  you  bet." 

"  Tom,  Tom,"  said  his  mother  reproachfully,  "  surely 
we  ought  to  be  satisfied  with  what  we  have  found." 

"  I  don't  imagine  you'll  find  anything  more,"  Tamar 
said  thoughtfully.  "  I  should  judge  that  for  a  choice 
collection  of  this  sort,  it  is  now  fairly  complete." 

"  But,"  she  added  with  a  soft  little  laugh,  "  if  I  do 
have  a  series  of  convictions  when  I'm  back  in  the  shop, 
I  must  send  a  series  of  wires." 

"  Ah,  that  shop  in  Dean  Street,"  said  Rupert. 
"  I'm 'longing  to  see  it.  I'm  coming,  too." 

There  was  a  chorus  of  agreement  on  that  point,  and 
a  very  definite  decision  that,  whether  Tamar  liked  it  or 
not,  they  were  not  going  to  lose  sight  of  her.  They 
had  all  forgotten  that  she  had  given  them  a  cold  douche 


48  WHERE  YOUR  HEART  IS 

by  her  sudden  attack  of  business  alertness,  by  her  sur- 
prising transformation  from  a  personal  friend  into  a 
complete  stranger  making  terms  with  them.  And,  in- 
deed, for  the  whole  remainder  of  the  time  she  was  with 
them  —  and  they  persuaded  her  to  stay  another  night 
at  Marton  Grange  —  there  was  not  a  trace  of  the  busi- 
ness side  of  her  nature,  either  in  her  manner  or  in  her 
remarks.  Once  again  Tamar  showed  them  the  best 
part  of  her  complicated  character,  and  won  them  for 
her  friends.  When  she  left  the  next  morning  there  was 
not  one  of  the  family  who  did  not  regret  her  departure. 
Mrs.  Thornton  found  it  necessary  to  call  the  cambric 
handkerchief  into  requisition. 

Tamar  at  this  juncture  looked  a  little  embarrassed 
and  sheepish,  for  no  one  before  had  ever  shed  tears  in 
parting  from  her  —  except,  of  course,  tears  of  rage,  of 
disappointed  hopes  and  thwarted  plans.  Those  she 
had  ever  been  able  to  evoke  by  the  bucket,  by  the  gal- 
lon, and  to  ignore  them  with  a  cold  indifference.  But 
here  was  something  of  another  order,  something  against 
which  she  had  no  weapon  of  defence,  nor  wished  to  have. 

It  intermingled  with  her  other  memories  of  the  coun- 
tryside: with  the  wide  spaces  of  the  far-stretching 
moors,  with  the  wonder  of  their  detailed  and  varied 
beauty,  with  the  vision  of  the  racing  clouds  overhead, 
with  the  rush  of  the  strong,  clean  wind,  uplifting, 
strengthening,  purifying,  with  the  sight  of  the  shepherd 
passing  through  the  village  with  his  flock  on  his  way 
to  lower  pastures,  with  the  glacier-like  greeting  from 
the  swift  river,  with  the  last  good-byes  to  her  new 
friends  on  the  little  station,  with  the  sound  of  their 
cheerful  voices,  with  the  irresistible  appeal  of  their 
youth. 


CHAPTER  IV 

ABOUT  two  months  after  Tamar's  visit  to  Marton 
Grange,  she  was  standing  behind  her  counter  in 
her  shop  in  Dean  Street  looking  up  some  entry  in  one 
of  the  ledgers,  when  a  new  client  arrived  on  the  scene, 
a  smart,  fashionably-dressed  woman,  wearing  long  ear- 
rings, which  always  had  the  effect  of  irritating  T. 
Scott.  Added  to  this  initial  annoyance,  was  a  sense  of 
personal  injury  and  even  insult  arising  from  the  fact 
that  this  woman  evidently  knew  how  to  hold  her  own  in 
a  business  transaction,  knew  values,  knew  what  she 
wanted,  and  was  entirely  unaffected  by  Tamar's  glacial 
manner. 

"  I  am  prepared  to  pay  three  pounds  seven  shillings 
and  sixpence  for  this  crucifix,"  she  said,  her  earrings 
bobbing  as  if  in  confirmation  of  this  statement.  "  Not 
a  penny  more.  It  is  not  worth  four  pounds,  and  you 
know  it." 

T.  Scott  knew  that  perfectly,  but  it  did  not  follow 
that  she  could  not  get  a  few  more  shillings  for  it,  per- 
haps even  a  pound  extra  if  she  waited  her  opportunity 
of  securing  a  more  ignorant  customer;  and  so  she 
glared  for  a  moment  at  this  hostile  personage,  and  then 
very  slowly  and  deliberately,  and  without  comment,  re- 
placed the  crucifix  in  the  window,  and  returned  to  her 
ledger  as  if  there  were  no  one  awaiting  her  decision. 

"  Well,  of  all  the  rude  people  in  the  world,"  the 
woman  exclaimed,  "  you  take  the  lead.  I  certainly 
could  not  recommend  any  one  to  come  here." 

49 


50 

"  No,  pray  don't,"  T  Scott  said  grimly,  without 
looking  up. 

The  woman  caught  up  her  hand-satchel  and  flounced 
out  of  the  shop  in  a  temper,  but  had  only  proceeded  a 
yard  or  two  when  she  discovered  she  had  left  her  um- 
brella behind,  and  she  was  therefore  obliged  to  retrace 
her  steps  to  fetch  it.  As  Tamar  turned  round  and  saw 
her,  she  suddenly  remembered  that  this  little  French 
crucifix  had  been  rejected  by  two  or  three  people  who 
had  been  tempted  to  buy  it,  but  had  put  it  down  directly 
they  had  touched  it.  She  recalled  one  man  in  par- 
ticular. He  had  shrunk  away  with  a  look  of  positive 
alarm  on  his  face. 

"  Oh,  no,  no,"  he  had  exclaimed.  "  Something 
wrong  there  —  something  evil." 

This  thought  flashed  through  her  mind,  and  she  de- 
cided that  it  would  be  as  well  to  get  rid  of  it  to  some 
one  who,  like  this  commonplace  creature  with  the  ear- 
rings and  without  fine  perceptions,  would  be  impervious 
to  secret,  subtle  influences. 

"  You  can  have  the  crucifix  for  three  pounds  seven 
and  sixpence,"  she  said  sulkily,  for  she  grudged  the 
concession  whilst  recognizing  the  wisdom  which 
prompted  it. 

"  Indeed?  "  the  woman  said  in  surprise.  "  So  you've 
come  down,  have  you?  There  must  be  some  reason  for 
that.  I'd  like  to  look  at  it  again  and  be  sure." 

Tamar  handed  it  to  her  again.  She  turned  it  over, 
examined  it  critically,  seemed  satisfied  with  the  results 
of  her  scrutiny,  and  showed  no  signs  of  alarm  to  T. 
Scott,  who  was  watching  her  face  with  lynx  eyes.  She 
put  the  money  on  the  counter. 

"  I  can  find  nothing  against  it,"  she  said  thought- 


WHERE  YOUR  HEART  IS  51 

fully.     "  But  there  must  be  something,  otherwise  you 
would  never  come  down  in  this  fashion." 

T.  Scott  remained  like  a  sphinx,  voiceless,  expres- 
sionless. 

"  But  I  like  it,"  the  woman  added.  "  I  have  looked 
at  it  many  times  in  your  window.  I  will  take  it." 

In  silence  Tamar  watched  her  departure,  and  when 
she,  was  alone,  she  said  aloud: 

"  On  the  whole,  good  business.  Three  pounds  seven 
and  six  in  pocket,  and  something  of  sinister  influence 
out  of  the  shop.  And  this  reminds  me  of  that  rococo 
pendant  brooch  which  scared  some  one  a  year  or  two 
ago.  I'd  better  part  with  that.  Very  strange,  these * 
influences.  Curious  and  incomprehensible.  But  real. 
And  once  or  twice  I  have  felt  them  myself.  But  only 
once  or  twice.  Once  in  Rothenburg,  at  that  shop  op- 
posite the  cathedral  —  yes,  I  remember  well  —  it  was  a 
little  gold  casket  studded  with  emeralds.  Spanish  six- 
teenth-century —  and  .  .  ." 

The  door  opened,  and  a  very  young  airman  leapt 
in  gaily. 

"  Hullo,"  he  said,  "  so  here  you  are  in  your  own  dug- 
out. I'm  awfully  glad  to  see  you." 

Tamar  laughed,  and  all  irritating  thoughts  about 
well-informed  women  with  long  earrings,  all  business 
considerations  and  reflections  on  subtle  and  secret  in- 
fluences fell  from  her  as  a  garment,  for  here  was  Tom 
Thornton,  and  with  him  came  a  rush  of  strong  fresh 
air  from  the  moors,  a  life-giving  breath  from  the  glacier 
river,  memories  of  unexpected  comradeship  won  from 
a  purely  business  appointment,  and  a  renewed  exhilara- 
tion emanating  from  the  magic  influence  of  youth. 

"  I'm  delighted  to  see  you  in  my  dug-out,"  she  said. 


52  WHERE  YOUR  HEART  IS 

"  And  you're  a  flying  man,  surely,  aren't  you  ?  I 
should  have  thought  you  were  too  young." 

"  I've  told  a  lie  about  my  age,  realized  my  ambition 
and  got  into  the  R.F.C.  somehow,"  he  said.  "  The 
usual  patriotic  lie,  you  know.  And  the  result  is  I'm 
off  to  Oxford  to  the  Officers'  Cadet  Battalion.  Great, 
isn't  it!  I've  always  been  dead  set  on  aviation.  And 
the  Mater  was  such  a  trump  about  it.  But,  I  say,  what 
a  top-hole  hunting  ground  for  plunder  you  have  here. 
Talking  about  plunder,  I  turned  Marton  Grange 
upside-down,  inside-out,  after  you'd  gone.  And  the 
only  treasures  I  found  —  in  a  locked  cash-box  which 
we  had  an  awful  time  opening,  were  —  not  pearls,  nor 
rubies,  nor  spinels  —  but  an  old  toothbrush  and  a 
comb !  A  sell,  wasn't  it  ?  " 

Tamar  laughed. 

"  I  wish  you  could  have  seen  me  carrying  that  cash- 
box  in  triumph  to  the  Mater's  room,"  he  went  on,  "  and 
all  the  family  following  me  in  a  solemn  procession,  and 
Winifred  with  her  nose  in  the  air  and  pretending  not 
to  care,  except  for  *  psychological  reasons.'  Then  I 
made  them  all  guess  what  was  in  it.  Rupert  said  Siam 
or  Montana  sapphires  —  he  is  always  reading  your 
book  and  knows  it  by  heart  —  and  Marion  said  dia- 
monds. Winifred  suggested  pearls.  The  Mater 
wouldn't  guess.  And  I  said  alexandrite  cat's-eye,  as  it 
sounded  rather  swanky.  Now,  you  would  have  guessed 
toothbrush  and  comb,  without  any  trouble,  wouldn't 
you?  You'd  have  stuck  to  it  through  thick  and  thin 
that  no  collection  worthy  of  the  name  would  have  been 
complete  without  those  valuable  varieties.  And  you 
would  have  been  right,  as  before." 

"  Come  into   the  inner  room,"  Tamar  said,  "  and 


WHERE  YOUR  HEART  IS  53 

we'll  have  some  tea.  And  you  must  tell  me  about  the 
collection.  I  suppose  by  now  all  the  stones  have  been 
sold?" 

"  Nearly  all  except  the  four  pearls,"  he  said. 
"  They've  been  kept  back  for  you  to  buy  if  you  want 
to.  The  Mater  was  very  determined  about  that.  We 
all  were.  We'd  have  defended  them  from  Christie's 
with  our  lives.  Rupert  is  coming  up  one  day  with 
them.  You're  not  going  to  be  let  alone  by  this  family, 
I  can  tell  you.  As  far  as  I  can  make  out,  we're  all 
coming  to  camp  here." 

"  So  the  pearls  have  been  left  for  me  to  buy,"  Tamar 
said,  her  eyes  suddenly  bright  at  the  prospect  of  pos- 
sessing them.  "  I  call  that  very  considerate." 

"  Well,  you  discovered  them,  in  a  sense?  "  Tom  said. 
"  I  think  you  ought  to  have  had  them  for  nothing." 

"  People  don't  give  up  valuable  pearls  for  nothing," 
Tamar  remarked  drily.  "  I  wouldn't.  But  I'm  very 
glad  to  have  the  chance  of  buying  them.  I  want  them. 
I  wanted  them  from  the  moment  I  saw  them.  I  shall 
never  forget  .  .  ." 

She  broke  off  in  time  to  prevent  herself  from  speak- 
ing of  her  midnight  excursion,  but  Tom  did  not  notice. 
He  was  dashing  about,  looking  now  at  this  thing,  now 
at  that.  He  took  it  entirely  for  granted  that  he  might 
make  himself  at  home  and  that  he  was  welcome.  And 
indeed,  so  he  was.  Treasures  hitherto  solemnly  sacred 
in  Tamar's  eyes,  he  treated  with  an  easy  familiarity 
which  only  caused  her  amusement.  His  happiness  and 
high  spirits  gladdened  her  heart  and  quickened  her 
steps  as  she  set  about  preparing  the  tea;  but  he  was 
with  her  instantly,  snatching  up  the  tea-tray  from  the 
kitchen  table  and  rushing  with  it  into  the  inner  room 


54  WHERE  YOUR  HEART  IS 

with  an  impetus  which  augured  peril  for  some  of  the 
valuable  old  china  lying  about  in  a  sequestered  security 
hitherto  unchallenged. 

Over  tea,  T.  Scott  learnt  the  news  of  the  family. 
Marion  had  become  a  nursing  orderly  in  one  of  the 
Military  Hospitals  in  London.  Winifred  had  joined 
the  Women  Police  Service.  Rupert  was  trying  to  ar- 
range Mr.  Thornton's  archaeological  notes  and  com- 
plete his  father's  unfinished  book.  Mrs.  Thornton  was 
making  comforts  for  the  mine-sweepers,  at  Marton 
Grange.  But  the  house  was  soon  going  to  be  shut  up, 
and  she  was  coming  to  London  and  was  going  to  do 
needlework  at  a  Red  Cross  depot. 

"  Isn't  it  sporting  of  her?  "  Tom  said.  "  She  has 
bucked  up  tremendously  lately.  All  our  sweet  relations 
are  rather  shocked  at  her,  and  think  she  ought  to  be 
passing  her  time  behind  the  cambric  handkerchief.  But 
I'm  glad  she  doesn't.  And  she  has  been  simply  ripping 
about  us  all.  She  didn't  seem  to  mind  how  many  lies  I 
told  to  get  into  the  running  at  once ;  and  when  I  said  it 
was  the  Flying  Corps  I'd  set  my  heart  on,  she  seemed 
frightfully  pleased,  and  said  that  would  have  been  her 
choice,  and  that  she  would  be  proud  to  have  an  airman 
in  the  family.  She  said  we  were  all  to  be  free,  and  that 
it  was  time  parents  left  off  being  keepers  of  gaols  from 
which  their  children  longed  to  escape.  Very  decent  of 
her,  wasn't  it,  and  cunning  too?  For,  of  course,  the 
result  was  that  no  one  really  wanted  to  leave  her  when 
it  came  to  the  point." 

So  he  rattled  on,  telling  her  details  of  his  plans  and 
prospects  as  if  she  had  been  a  family  friend  who  would 
naturally  be  interested  in  all  he  had  to  say;  and  the 
odd  part  was  that  Tamar,  who  had  never  before  con- 


WHERE  YOUR  HEART  IS  55 

cerned  herself  with  the  weal  or  woe  of  any  people  she 
had  met  in  the  course  of  business,  listened  to  Tom,  not 
with  mere  indulgence  because  she  liked  him,  but  with  the 
settled  attentiveness  of  some  one  who  had  the  affairs  of 
the  family  at  heart. 

Once  or  twice  it  struck  her  how  absurd  it  was  that  she 
should  be  giving  even  a  moment's  consideration  to  the 
lives  of  these  strangers  of  Marton  Grange;  but  the 
thought  was  immediately  demolished  by  a  settled  convic- 
tion that  they  were  not  strangers,  and  that  ridiculous 
though  it  was,  she  had  been  knitted  to  them  by  the 
happenings  of  those  two  nights  spent  beneath  their 
roof. 

Tom's  description  of  Winifred  as  a  policewoman 
amused  her  immensely.  Oh,  yes,  he  said,  she  was  the 
right  type.  Very  smart  and  capable  she  looked  in  her 
neat  uniform,  and  with  all  the  virtues  of  all  the  centuries 
and  of  all  the  nations  written  large  on  her  sensible  coun- 
tenance. Burglars  and  murderers,  and  all  disorderly 
people,  male  and  female,  would  certainly  tremble  before 
her.  She  had  even  intimidated  Aunt  Theresa,  who  had 
dared  to  assert  that  the  jewels  had  got  into  their  heads 
and  that  they  were  not  mourning  in  the  proper  and 
accepted  manner  for  the  poor  old  Governor.  Wini- 
fred's eye,  with  the  help  of  her  uniform,  had  quelled  her 
in  no  time.  A  mighty  useful  thing  having  police  offi- 
cers in  the.  family.  Still  more  useful  too  if  they  had  the 
power  to  arrest  and  detain  all  troublesome  relatives. 
Jolly  good  way  of  stopping  all  interfering  and  mischief- 
making. 

TLamar  asked  about  Marion.  Oh,  Marion  was  all 
right,  but  she  had  been  a  bit  odd  about  the  jewels.  No 
one  had  been  able  to  induce  her  to  annex  any  of  them, 


56  WHERE  YOUR  HEART  IS 

either  the  valuable  or  the  inferior  ones,  for  her  own 
personal  adornment.  Now  he,  personally,  would  have 
liked  Marion  to  have  chosen  the  best  diamond,  emerald, 
ruby,  pearl,  sapphire  and  opal,  and  strung  them  all 
through  her  nose  if  she'd  wanted  to.  But  she  didn't 
want  to.  She  stuck  to  it  that  she  would  rather  have 
had  one  poor  little  stone  given  direct  by  the  old  Gov- 
ernor than  a  whole  lot  from  his  collection  now  that  he 
was  dead.  She  did  not  wish  anything  kept  back  for  her 
and  unsold.  This  was  the  one  and  only  occasion  on 
which  the  Mater  had  shown  any  inclination  to  return 
to  the  embraces  of  the  cambric  handkerchief.  Winifred 
had  explained  Marion's  attitude  as  being  a  "  psycho- 
logical consequence  " ;  and  as  no  one  knew  what  that 
meant,  it  had  an  instantly  exhilarating  effect  on  every 
one,  including  Marion  herself!  Of  course,  as  he  had 
pointed  out,  it  was  all  the  better  for  them  if  Marion 
did  not  want  any  private  plunder,  though  she  would 
have  been  welcome  to  it.  But  he  thought  that  one  day, 
not  now,  but  later,  when  the  psychological  consequence 
had  sort  of  died  down  a  bit,  he  would  like  to  buy  a  little 
jewel  for  her  and  give  it  to  her  direct.  He  could  buy 
it  from  this  very  dug-out.  He  could  choose  something 
choice  out  of  that  safe,  for  instance,  or  perhaps  out  of 
a  dummy  encyclopaedia.  Had  Miss  Scott  one?  Poor 
old  Governor.  He  didn't  really  want  to  make  fun  of 
him,  or  be  disrespectful  to  the  dead.  But  he  had  been  a 
queer  one,  top  hole  queer.  Well,  there  was  no  know- 
ing, perhaps  he  himself  might  develop  into  the  same  sort 
of  character.  If  he  did  not  get  killed  in  the  war,  per- 
haps he  too  would  collect  precious  stones  and  hide  them 
somewhere.  It  was  evidently  in  the  blood.  There  was 
a  family  legend  that  his  great-great-grandfather  on  the 


WHERE  YOUR  HEART  IS  57 

paternal  side  had  collected  spear-heads  or  something, 
and  his  great-grandfather  rubies.  There  was  no  doubt 
about  the  legend,  but  what  had  become  of  the  rubies? 
That  was  what  he  would  like  to  know. 

His  words :"  If  I  don't  get  killed  in  the  war,"  spoken 
so  lightly,  and  yet  charged  with  every  possibility  of 
fulfilment,  sent  a  chill  through  T.  Scott's  heart,  and 
conjured  up  a  picture  to  her  of  young  lives,  gay,  high- 
spirited,  light-hearted  young  creatures  like  this  Tom 
Thornton,  cut  down  in  their  early  days  of  splendour, 
wiped  off  from  the  face  of  the  earth  —  thousands  of 
them,  tens  of  thousands  of  them.  Up  to  now  their  fate 
had  not  concerned  her  at  all,  and  the  ever-lengthening 
casualty  lists  in  the  newspapers  had  been  of  less  mo- 
ment to  her  than  the  items  of  an  auction  sale  at  Chris- 
tie's. Her  view,  vaguely  outlined  to  herself,  was  that 
if  people  went  to  war,  they  must  expect  to  get  killed. 
It  was  a  pity,  but  inevitable. 

But  she  did  not  like  to  hear  Tom  hint  at  it,  however 
casually.  She  frowned,  stared  in  front  of  her,  fidgeted, 
became  immersed  in  thought,  and  finally  nodded  as  if 
she  had  taken  a  decision  of  some  importance.  And  it 
was  important  to  her,  for  Tamar  hated  parting  with 
the  very  least  of  her  private  and  personal  possessions, 
and  she  had  determined  to  give  this  boy  one  of  her  most 
cherished  treasures  —  an  amulet  supposed  to  be  en- 
dowed with  special  protective  virtues,  and  handed  down 
to  her  from  that  mother  whom  she  had  adored.  Very 
slowly,  very  reluctantly  she  went  upstairs  to  her  room 
to  fetch  it.  Very  slowly,  very  reluctantly  she  returned 
with  it,  and  then,  with  face  averted,  as  if  she  could  not 
bear  to  be  a  witness  of  what  she  was  doing,  she  held  it 
out  to  him.  It  was  a  carved  ruby  mounted  as  a  little 


58  WHERE  YOUR  HEART  IS 

square  pendant  in  gold  and  turquoise.  It  was  Bur- 
mese, and  said  to  be  very  old. 

"For  me?"  he  asked,  blushing.  "Oh,  I  say,  how 
ripping  of  you.  A  sort  of  talisman,  isn't  it?  I  know 
the  sort  of  thing." 

"  Against  all  dangers  of  the  elements,"  she  said  in  a 
low,  chanting  voice,  as  if  she  were  a  priestess  of  old 
performing  some  sacred  rite,  *'  against  fire  and  water 
and  earth  and  air,  against  all  dangers,  known  and  un- 
known, of  all  the  elements,  fire  and  water  and  earth  and 
air." 

She  swayed  gently  to  and  fro  to  the  rhythm  of  the 
words  she  uttered.  The  boy  watched  her  in  silence, 
caught  suddenly  by  the  solemnity,  the  mystic  imperson- 
ality of  her  bearing.  He  told  his  mother  afterwards 
that  he  had  felt  a  bit  nervy  —  as  if  spells  were  being 
woven  around  him,  but  that  he  would  not  part  with  that 
funny  little  old  talisman  for  anything  on  earth. 

But  he  did  not,  of  course,  know  the  nature  of  the 
sacrifice  Tamar  had  made  for  him,  nor  the  symbolism 
of  her  deed  of  gift.  He  was  the  representative  to  her 
imagination,  suddenly  awakened,  of  all  the  young  boys 
at  the  front,  or  destined  for  the  front,  all  in  peril,  and 
all  in  need  of  protection.  And  the  talisman  was  offered 
to  them,  through  him. 

After  he  had  gone,  T.  Scott,  needless  to  say,  had  an 
acute  attack  of  regret  over  her  unnecessary  anxiety  on 
behalf  of  these  boys  taking  part  in  the  war,  and  over 
her  entirely  absurd  generosity  in  giving  away  that 
much  valued  amulet.  It  danced  before  her  eyes  chal- 
lengingly,  tantalizingly,  and  she  felt  almost  driven  to 
follow  Tom  and  demand  it  back  immediately.  But  at 


WHERE  YOUR  HEART  IS  59 

least  she  had  the  decency  to  recognize  that  she  could  not 
demean  herself  in  that  fashion,  and  that  the  only  thing 
to  do  was  to  bear  her  loss  until  she  got  accustomed  to 
it. 

Regret  and  resignation  landed  her,  however,  in  a 
very  bad  temper,  and  when  some  unfortunate  custom- 
ers came  into  the  shop,  a  mild  old  gentleman  and  a  still 
milder  old  lady,  she  was  so  rude  and  uncompromising 
in  her  manner  that  they  withdrew  in  alarm,  the  mild  old 
gentleman  saying  quietly  as  he  opened  the  door  and 
was  safely  on  the  threshold : 

"  We  came  to  buy,  Madam,  not  to  be  insulted." 

Tamar  only  glared  at  him,  and  after  their  departure 
was  increasingly  annoyed  with  herself  for  having  lost 
the  chance  of  doing  business  with  some  one  who  bore 
every  sign,  well  known  to  her  by  long  experience,  of  a 
person  whom  she  could  have  cheated  comfortably,  prof- 
itably and  expeditiously.  So  that  when  Christopher 
Bramfield,  her  friend,  the  diamond  merchant,  arrived, 
he  found  her  in  one  of  her  most  disagreeable  moods. 
She  nodded  sulkily,  but  took  no  further  notice  of  him. 
He  sat  down  by  the  counter  and  waited  in  silence,  and 
with  a  half  smile  on  his  face ;  for  he  had  seen  her  often 
in  this  unamiable  frame  of  mind,  and  was  not  perturbed 
or  angered,  but  only  gently  amused.  Besides,  she  would 
not  have  been  T.  Scott  if  she  had  lost  her  power  of  being 
sulky,  sullen,  rude,  unfriendly,  hostile. 

"  T.  Scott,"  he  said,  after  a  period  of  ten  minutes  or 
so,  "  I  called  in  partly  to  tell  you  of  some  wonderful  sil- 
ver I've  heard  of  in  Holland,  at  a  place  called  Egmond 
op  den  Hoof,  near  Alkmaar,  which  you  ought  to  go  and 
see  without  delay.  And  I  also  wanted  to  proffer  my 
usual  request,  Tamar,  that  you  would  change  your 


60  WHERE  YOUR  HEART  IS 

mind  and  marry  your  old  friend.  But  I  mtist  own  that 
I  don't  appear  to  have  struck  on  an  auspicious  day. 
So  I  think  I'll  defer  that  matter.  You  know  perfectly 
well  that  I  have  loved  you  for  years,  and  have  always 
wanted  you  to  share  with  me  my  life  and  my  fortune. 
There  the  matter  can  rest  —  at  least  for  today." 

Tamar  made  no  sign. 

"What's  wrong  with  you?  "  he  asked.  "  Have  you 
been  doing  bad  business  ?  " 

She  continued  faking  up  a  rococo  brooch  as  if  no  one 
were  addressing  her. 

"  Very  interesting  about  the  Thornton  jewel  collec- 
tion, isn't  it  ?  "  he  continued  cheerfully.  "  I  don't  know 
when  I've  heard  such  a  curious  story,  nor  been  so 
pleased  about  anything.  A  nice  family,  and  no  mis- 
take. Four  magnificent  pearls  have  been  preserved 
for  you  to  buy.  If  you  don't  want  them,  T.  Scott,  I 
should  like  them  for  one  of  my  clients." 

"  You  can't  have  them,"  Tamar  snapped  out. 

"  Ah,"  he  said,  with  a  laugh,  "  I  thought  that  would 
wake  you  up.  All  the  same,  I  should  like  them.  And 
I  made  a  handsome  offer  for  them,  too.  But  that 
young  fellow,  and,  indeed,  all  the  family,  seemed  pre- 
pared to  defend  them  with  their  lives.  You've  won 
those  people,  Tamar.  They  think  you  are  so  kind  and 
amiable.  Well,  of  course  you  are  when  you  choose, 
aren't  you?  We  all  know  that." 

A  faint  smile  stole  over  Tamar's  face. 

"  You  can't  have  the  pearls,"  she  repeated.  "  And 
as  for  marrying  you,  Bramfield,  you  have  heard  my  an- 
swer often  enough,  and  why  you  continue  asking  me 
every  year  is  more  than  I  understand." 

"  It  is  more  than  I  understand  myself,"  Bramfield  an- 


WHERE  YOUR  HEART  IS  61 

swered,  staring  at  the  ground.  Then  he  added  in  an 
entirely  business-like  manner,  as  if  dismissing  peremp- 
torily all  personal  affairs : 

"  Well,  you  mustn't  miss  this  chance  in  Holland. 
Submarines  or  no  submarines,  mines  or  no  mines,  you 
must  go  to  Alkmaar  and  secure  some  of  the  good  things 
left  by  old  Herr  Maas.  I  believe  there  are  several  spe- 
cially fine  nefs.  Think  of  that.  It's  a  rare  opportu- 
nity, as  you  have  always  been  dead  set  on  Dutch  ships. 
And  there  is  no  time  to  lose.  I  only  heard  the  news 
today,  but  others  will  soon  learn  it,  so  we  ought  to  be 
off  at  once  —  as  soon  as  we  can  get  permits.  I'm  going 
to  Amsterdam  on  business,  and  also  I  have  to  go  to  Rot- 
terdam in  connection  with  that  American  Commission 
for  the  Relief  of  Belgium  I've  told  you  of.  You'll  come 
there,  too,  won't  you?  It's  a  wonderful  work,  that. 
You  ought  to  see  something  of  it." 

"  Why  should  I?  "  she  asked  sulkily. 

"  Jewels  of  another  kind,  Tamar,"  he  said  gently. 
"  Cargoes  of  real  treasure  in  the  Relief  Ships  —  food 
for  starving  people." 

"  That  wouldn't  necessarily  interest  me,"  she  said, 
shrugging  her  shoulders. 

"  No,  I  don't  suppose  it  would,  now  I  come  to  think 
of  it,"  he  said  with  a  smile  which  had  some  wistfulness 
in  it.  "  Well,  you  could  knock  out  Rotterdam. 
And  in  any  case,  you'll  see  my  friend,  Miss  Linton,  who 
is  helping  with  the  refugees  at  Flushing.  I  rather  think 
you  would  like  her.  She  does  put  her  heart  into  her 
job." 

"  Does  she  ?  "  said  Tamar  with  indifference. 

And  she  added: 

"  I  don't  know  that  I  want  to  go  to  Holland  just  at 


62  WHERE  YOUR  HEART  IS 

present.  Are  you  absolutely  sure  that  the  nefs  are 
exceptionally  fine?  " 

"  Yes,"  he  answered,  "  absolutely  sure.  Make  up 
your  mind  to  come,  Tamar,  and  be  pleasant  about  it. 
We'll  have  a  nice  outing,  and  it  will  do  you  good  to  get 
away.  All  sorts  of  things  are  happening  in  the  outside 
world,  and  you  are  caged  up  here  as  if  you  were  a  pris- 
oner." 

Tamar  looked  up. 

"  I  don't  mind  telling  you,  Bramfield,  that  I've  felt  a 
little  like  that  lately,"  she  said. 

"  I'm  delighted  to  hear  it,"  he  said  as  he  rose  to  go. 
"  You  think  it  over  and  let  me  know  what  you  decide, 
and  I'll  make  all  the  arrangements.  I  had  a  letter  from 
Bruce  today.  He's  all  right  and  in  good  spirits. 
Such  a  relief  to  my  mind." 

"  Poor  old  Bramfield,"  Tamar  said  with  sudden  kind- 
ness, her  face  taking  on  an  expression  which  made  her 
look  beautiful.  "  I'm  glad  you  have  had  good  news 
from  your  boy." 

His  own  face  lit  up  with  pleasure  at  the  change  in 
her. 

"  Bruce  has  been  mentioned  twice  in  Dispatches  now," 
he  said  proudly.  "  Lucky  young  devil  to  be  able  to 
fight  for  his  country.  One  of  the  First  Hundred  Thou- 
sand, Tamar,  one  of  the  First  Hundred  Thousand. 
Nothing  can  take  that  from  him  —  or  me." 

He  looked  a  proud  figure  of  a  man  as  he  stood  for  a 
moment  by  the  counter.  Tall,  refined,  and  almost  hand- 
some in  feature,  and  with  bright  eyes  that  could  dance 
in  merriment,  and  a  spirit  that  was  informed  with  chiv- 
alry, and  a  restless  energy  that  had  something  boyish  in 
it,  Bramfield  was  a  most  engaging  personality.  He  did 


WHERE  YOUR  HEART  IS  63 

not  look  his  fifty-seven  years,  for  his  hair  had  refused 
to  accept  more  than  a  mere  sprinkling  of  grey,  and  his 
heart  would  never  have  been  able  to  grow  old.  It  ever 
renewed  itself  to  meet  the  demands  made  on  it  by  count- 
less people  and  countless  things.  And  he  was  constant 
—  obstinately  so.  He  had  been  a  widower  for  about 
sixteen  years,  and  certainly  for  ten  years  he  had  been 
trying  to  win  Tamar,  and  without  much  encouragement, 
if  indeed,  with  any.  It  was  surprising  she  did  not  en- 
courage him  —  surprising  sometimes  even  to  herself. 

Some  such  thought  passed  through  her  mind  when  he 
had  gone.  She  sat  for  a  long  time  wondering  why  she 
could  not  bring  herself  to  give  up  her  liberty  and  marry 
him.  Then  her  thoughts  turned  to  business.  He  was 
right  in  saying  that  she  ought  not  to  miss  the  opportu- 
nity of  securing  those  Dutch  nefs.  She  had  always  had 
a  great  liking  for  them,  and  had  never  failed  to  find 
them  a  profitable  investment.  Perhaps  she  would  go  to 
Holland.  Yes,  she  would.  It  would  do  her  good  to 
leave  the  shop  for  a  little  while.  Bramfield  was  right 
again  about  that.  It  did  seem  a  prison  sometimes.  Its 
walls,  more  than  once  lately,  had  seemed  to  press  closely 
round  her,  limiting  her  breathing  space  and  her  outlook. 
She  remembered  that  this  idea  had  occurred  to  her  on 
the  far-stretching  moors  at  Lallington.  The  moors  in- 
stantly recalled  to  her  Marton  Grange,  the  Thorntons, 
Tom  —  and  the  amulet. 

Yes,  she  must  battle  with  her  regret  in  having  parted 
with  the  amulet*  For  it  was  sacred,  mystic.  To  im- 
pair by  wrong  thought  the  power  of  its  protectiveness 
was  an  act  of  profanity  at  which  she  might  well  shud- 
der. 

So  Tamar  wrestled  with  her  difficult  temperament, 


64.  WHERE  YOUR  HEART  IS 

suffered,  won  through  by  heroic  persistence  of  good  in- 
tention, and  reached  the  stage  of  peace  and  imperson- 
ality when  she  could  once  more  with  solemn  dedication 
repeat  the  words: 

"  Against  all  dangers  of  the  elements,  against  fire  and 
water  and  earth  and  air,  against  all  dangers,  known  and 
unknown,  of  all  the  elements,  fire  and  water  and  earth 
and  air." 


CHAPTER  V 

TWO  or  three  days  before  Tamar  went  to  Holland, 
Rupert  Thornton  came  to  the  shop  and  received 
from  her  the  same  kindly  welcome  which  she  had  ac- 
corded to  Tom.  As  he  did  not  mention  the  pearls,  she 
forbore  from  alluding  to  them,  although  thinking  of 
them  all  the  time,  and  with  a  heartache  to  have  them 
safely  in  her  possession. 

Instead  of  betraying  her  excitement,  she  suppressed 
it  by  her  remarkable  self-control.  She  showed  him 
some  of  her  precious  stones  in  her  safe  and  some  of  her 
other  treasures,  such  as  Limoges  enamels,  Battersea 
enamels,  snuff-boxes,  bonbonnieres,  George  II  silver, 
rat-tailed  table-spoons,  and  a  Charles  I  small  silver-gilt 
bowl.  One  of  the  snuff-boxes,  of  Siberian  onyx,  French 
eighteenth  century,  greatly  took  his  fancy,  and  he 
learnt  from  her  that  the  South  Kensington  Museum 
wanted  it  from  her  and  would  never  get  it.  She  showed 
him  choice  bits  of  china,  Chelsea,  Bow,  Derby,  and 
Derby-Chelsea  figures,  some  exquisite  little  Chelsea 
scent-bottles  modelled  as  hens  and  chickens,  and  lovely 
specimens  of  Spode  and  Worcester  and  Chinese.  He 
was  so  genuinely  interested  in  everything  she  brought 
to  his  notice  and  all  she  told  him,  that  it  was  a  pleasure 
to  take  the  trouble  on  his  behalf.  And  he  was  posi- 
tively thrilled  when  he  saw  the  original  costly  plates  of 
the  illustrations  to  her  book  on  Precious  Stones. 

Perhaps  Tamar  gave  herself  all  the  more  pains  to 
please  him  because  she  remembered  with  some  lingering 

65 


66  WHERE  YOUR  HEART  IS 

uneasiness  the  scorn  of  his  manner  that  morning  at 
Marton  Grange,  when  she  suddenly  stipulated  for  an  in- 
crease of  her  fee.  She  had  had  every  right  to  look  after 
her  own  interests,  of  course,  and  his  attitude  of  mind 
on  the  occasion  had  been  unwarranted  and  impertinent. 
Yet  she  had  not  been  able  to  dismiss  entirely  its  effect 
on  her.  Even  now  she  found  herself  vaguely  hoping 
that  she  might  behave  with  a  decent  amount  of  restraint 
and  a  minimum  of  avariciousness  if  it  came  to  a  ques- 
tion of  doing  business  with  him  in  connection  with  those 
coveted  pearls.  She  could  not  have  explained  to  her- 
self why  she,  usually  entirely  regardless  of  any  criti- 
cisms passed  on  her,  should  care  in  this  special  instance 
to  win  a  good  opinion,  or  at  least  not  to  hazard  a  bad 
one. 

But  the  truth  was  that  she  realized  dimly  that  here 
was  some  one  who  had  faced  large  issues,  had  been  swept 
off  from  a  plane  where  details  mattered,  personal  con- 
siderations counted,  and  who  had  found  a  footing  in  a 
realm  where  new  values,  different  proportions,  had  the 
effect  of  changing  the  old  currency  into  something  base 
and  useless  and  grotesque.  Yes,  that  was  how  Rupert 
Thornton  would  probably  regard  her  driving  instinct 
for  good  business.  She  was  determined  to  protect  her- 
self from  the  discomfort  of  further  scorn,  however 
slight,  however  involuntary.  She  made  up  her  mind  to 
offer  for  the  pearls  three  hundred  pounds  over  and 
above  the  figure  quoted  for  probate,  which  she  remem- 
bered was  two  thousand  pounds. 

"They're  worth  it,"  she  said.  "I  shall  get  the 
money  back.  And  there  is  my  pride.  I  suppose  that 
is  worth  something." 

And  then  she  laughed  aloud,  for  it  was  certainly  the 


WHERE  YOUR  HEART  IS  67 

first  time  in  her  business  career  that  T.  Scott  had  ever 
yielded  an  inch  of  ground  to  such  an  alien  attribute  of 
her  character  as  her  pride. 

"  Why  are  you  laughing?  "  Rupert  asked.  "  I  sup- 
pose I  made  a  bad  shot  at  the  age  of  this  —  bonbonniere 
you  call  it,  don't  you  ?  " 

"You  were  only  a  century  out,"  Tamar  said. 
"  That's  nothing  of  a  mistake  for  an  amateur." 

"  Well,  there's  one  thing,  I  soon  shan't  be  an  amateur 
if  I  go  on  learning  about  antiques  at  this  rate,"  he  said, 
smiling.  "  You  really  have  been  ripping  to  me.  It 
has  made  me  forget  everything  —  all  the  things  I 
wanted  to  forget,  you  know  —  and,  by  Jove,  I've  for- 
gotten about  those  pearls,  too  — " 

"  Ah,"  said  Tamar,  innocently  and  with  a  detached 
manner,  "  the  pearls." 

But  her  heart  gave  a  bound  as  he  took  a  little  packet 
from  his  waistcoat  pocket  and  laid  it  on  the  table.  It 
was  all  she  could  do  to  prevent  herself  from  snatching 
it  up.  And,  indeed,  if  Rupert  had  been  observant,  he 
would  have  noticed  that  her  hands  were  trembling  as  he 
opened  the  packet  and  displayed  the  four  pearls. 

At  first  she  did  not  touch  them,  nor  did  she  speak  a 
word.  She  simply  gazed  at  them,  feasted  on  their 
beauty,  their  delicate  pale-pink  colour,  marvelled  at 
their  lustre,  their  texture,  worshipped  them  as  objects 
worthy  of  adoration,  in  an  ecstasy  entirely  divorced 
from  any  thought  of  gain  and  profit  and  material  ad- 
vantage. Other  thoughts  would  come,  of  course,  and 
quickly  too;  but  Tamar's  first  sensation  on  seeing  any 
precious  stones  was  invariably  pure  and  passionate  joy 
in  their  mysterious  beauty,  even  as  a  worshipper  of  Na- 
ture might  revel  in  the  glories  of  a  sunrise,  the  mists 


68  WHERE  YOUR  HEART  IS 

lifting  over  the  mountains,  the  moon  casting  its  silver 
radiance  on  the  sea. 

At  last  the  spell  was  broken.  Ecstasy  gave  way  to 
business.  Pride  was  forgotten.  Greed  stepped  in. 
She  resolved  to  depreciate  them  and  try  and  secure 
them  for  as  little  as  possible.  She  examined  them,  and 
after  another  period  of  silence  said  in  that  dreamy  tone 
of  voice  she  always  used  when  she  was  beginning  to  de- 
ceive and  cheat: 

"Your  father's  judgment,  excellent  though  it  was, 
seems  to  me  to  have  been  a  little  at  fault  in  the  case  of 
these  pearls." 

"At  fault?"  Rupert  asked  in  surprise.  "Why,  I 
understood  that  they  were  peerless.  Mr.  Bramfield 
thought  so  when  he  saw  them." 

"  Oh,  I  don't  mean  to  say  that  they  are  not  exceed- 
ingly beautiful,"  T.  Scott  went  on  unperturbed.  "  But 
if  your  father  had  known  a  little  more  about  pearls, 
he  might  perhaps  have  rejected  this  one,  for  instance, 
having  regard  to  the  fact  that  he  evidently  had  his 
mind  bent  on  acquiring  perfect  specimens.  You  know, 
it  is  quite  possible  to  be  an  expert  in  precious  stones, 
and  yet  have  no  discrimination  where  pearls  are  con- 
cerned. My  friend  Bramfield  is  a  case  in  point.  He 
knows  something  about  them,  of  course,  knows  a  great 
deal  about  them,  but  not  everything.  I  suppose  he  told 
you  that  this  one  was  equal  to  the  others  ?  " 

"  He  said  when  I  saw  him  the  other  day  that  there 
was  nothing  to  choose  between  the  four  of  them,"  Ru- 
pert answered  quietly. 

"  Exactly,"  Tamar  said  with  a  slight  smile.  "  But 
I  don't  take  his  view  at  all.  They  are  all  very  lovely. 
But  I  personally  would  put  the  greatest  value  on  these 


WHERE  YOUR  HEART  IS  69 

two,  the  next  on  this  one,  and  certainly  the  least  on 
the  fourth.  The  fourth  is  considerably  inferior  in  deli- 
cacy of  colour  and  in  lustre  to  the  others.  It  may  have 
deteriorated  with  age." 

"  Perhaps,  after  all,  you  wouldn't  care  to  buy 
them  ?  "  Rupert  asked,  entirely  dashed  by  her  criticism 
and  want  of  enthusiasm. 

"  Oh,  yes,"  T.  Scott  answered  indifferently.  "  Oh, 
jes." 

She  closed  her  eyes  and  appeared  to  be  making  some 
calculations.  At  last  she  said: 

"  But  owing  to  the  comparative  inferiority  of  the 
fourth,  I  don't  see  my  way  to  offer  more  than  two  thou- 
sand pounds  for  them." 

"Two  thousand  pounds?"  Rupert  repeated  slowly, 
as  if  asking  a  question.  He  raised  his  eyebrows, 
coughed  a  little,  fidgeted  with  his  stick,  and  seemed  al- 
together embarrassed.  Then  he  took  courage  and  said 
courteously : 

"  We  could  not  let  you  have  them  for  two  thousand 
pounds.  We  have  had  several  better  offers  than  that. 
I  can't  tell  you  how  sorry  I  am  to  refuse  your  offer,  but 
I  have  to  consider  our  family  interests.  It  is  a  brutal 
thing  to  say,  but,  after  all.  one  can't  give  away  a  large 
sum  of  money  just  because — " 

He  hesitated  a  moment,  and  added  bravely : 

"  Because  you  happened  to  come  and  bring  us  good 
news.  That  is,  of  course,  what  one  would  like  to  do  — 
indeed,  give  them  away  altogether.  But  one  cannot." 

"  Two  thousand  one  hundred,  then,"  Tamar  said,  ig- 
noring his  remarks,  and  suddenly  seized  with  the  fear  of 
losing  the  pearls  altogether. 

He  shook  his  head.     His  face  had  clouded  over,  and 


70  WHERE  YOUR  HEART  IS 

the  increase  of  her  offer  had  evidently  annoyed  rather 
than  tempted  him.  He  replaced  the  pearls  in  the  case. 

"  You'll  excuse  me  if  I  tell  you  that  I  did  not  come 
here  to  bargain  with  you,"  he  said,  with  a  slight  smile 
which  was  not  pleasant.  "  That's  not  in  my  line  at  all. 
I  brought  the  pearls  simply  to  fulfil  our  promise  of  giv- 
ing you  the  opportunity  of  securing  them,  if  you  wished, 
at  a  price  which  would  not  put  us  at  too  great  a  disad- 
vantage. But  your  offer  falls  several  hundred  pounds 
short  of  what  we  are  entitled  to  expect.  Well,  that 
ends  the  matter." 

Rage  at  having  made  the  mistake  of  reckoning  on  his 
acquiescence,  fury  at  the  prospect  of  losing  the  sea- 
gems  on  which  she  had  set  her  heart,  drove  Tamar  to  an 
indiscretion  which  she  regretted  immediately  after- 
wards. 

"  Bargaining  with  you,"  she  hissed  out.  "  Rather 
call  it  bestowing  money  on  you.  Why,  I  could  have 
taken  the  pearls  if  I'd  wanted  to,  and  no  one  would  have 
been  the  wiser.  I  found  them.  I  knew  they  were  there. 
No  one  else  knew." 

"  You  knew  they  were  there"  he  repeated,  starting 
back.  "  How  did  you  know  ?  And  if  you  knew,  why 
didn't  you  tell  us?" 

Tamar  did  not  answer.  She  leaned  forward,  her  arm 
resting  on  the  counter  in  her  favourite  position,  her  eyes 
staring  straight  in  front  of  her,  and  her  mind  riveted 
on  the  fact  that  she  had  been  a  fool  to  commit  herself 
and  put  herself  in  the  power  of  any  one  to  doubt  her, 
suspect  her  and  condemn  her.  In  that  brief  interval 
her  brain  tried  to  find  a  way  of  escape  from  her  di- 
lemma, but  without  success.  She  realized  that  she 
would  either  have  to  remain  silent  or  speak  the  truth. 


WHERE  YOUR  HEART  IS  71 

Which  should  it  be?  She  did  not  often  speak  the 
truth,  the  whole  truth,  but  here  was  a  case  in  which  only 
the  whole  truth  would  suffice.  And  there  was  a  chance 
that  the  young  man  who  had  vision,  might  understand 
if  she  told  him  the  entire  story,  without  reservations. 
Yes,  having  got  herself  into  this  complication,  it  would 
undoubtedly  be  better  for  her  to  be  frank ;  but  even  at 
this  critical  moment  it  struck  Tamar  as  being  grimly 
humorous  that  she,  of  all  people,  should  be  forced  to 
frankness  by  an  embarrassing  situation  created  by  her- 
self and  no  one  else.  The  pearls,  beautiful  though  they 
were  and  of  a  liquid  loveliness  such  as  one  might  dream 
of  with  rapture,  were  not  worth  this  annoyance ;  neither 
were  the  five  or  six  hundred  pounds  which  she  had  hoped 
to  lop  off  easily  from  their  price.  Ah,  how  would  it  be 
if  she  were  to  offer  him  two  thousand  six  hundred 
pounds  now  —  or  even  seven  hundred  —  a  large  sum  of 
money  —  a  cruel  outlay  —  but  at  least  a  useful  one  — 
the  price  of  not  placing  oneself  in  another  person's 
power.  And  she  would  get  the  money  back.  Yes,  she 
might  try  this  means  before  she  resorted  to  frankness. 

But  when  she  looked  up  and  saw  the  expression  of 
quiet  determination  on  his  face,  Tamar  recognized  that 
he  meant  to  have  his  answer,  and  that  no  bribe  of  money 
would  influence  him. 

"  I  repeat  my  words,"  he  said.  "  How  did  you 
know?  And  if  you  knew,  why  didn't  you  tell  us?  " 

Tamar  sighed,  and  with  that  sigh  capitulated  to  cir- 
cumstance. 

"  If  you'll  sit  down  and  not  stand  over  me  menacing 
as  though  I  were  a  German  prisoner,  I  will  tell  you," 
she  said  in  a  low  voice. 

He  relaxed  and  sank  into  the  chair.     Tamar,  still 


72  WHERE  YOUR  HEART  IS 

bending  over  the  counter,  told  Rupert  the  whole  story. 
She  omitted  nothing.  She  closed  her  eyes,  shut  out  the 
world,  opened  her  soul.  Rupert,  hostile  at  first  and 
shocked  at  her  exhibition  of  greed  and  her  deliberate 
attempt  to  cheat  him,  soon  lost  all  sense  of  animosity, 
and  was  caught  by  the  interest  of  the  psychology  which 
unfolded  itself  as  she  proceeded  with  her  narrative. 

He  learnt  again  that  it  was  the  absence  of  the  spinels 
which  made  her  feel  entirely  certain  that  there  were 
other  jewels  concealed  in  some  other  hiding-place.  In 
Nature,  the  spinel  dwelt  side  by  side  with  its  patrician 
relative,  the  ruby,  and  no  collector  with  enthusiasm  for 
his  subject  would  dream  of  excluding  the  poorer  con- 
nection, which,  moreover,  was  a  most  interesting  stone 
in  itself.  He  heard  how  with  this  idea  burnt  into  her 
brain,  she  fell  asleep,  and  in  her  dreams  held  inter- 
course with  his  father.  And  what  more  natural? 
They  were  jewel  lovers,  both  of  them.  Their  minds 
were  one.  Their  spirits  were  in  sympathy.  Almost 
had  she  invoked  him  by  her  understanding  of  him,  by  her 
interpretation  of  him. 

"  Yes,  yes,  I  believe  that,"  Rupert  said,  stirred  to  n^s 
inmost  soul.  "  If  we  can  reach  them  at  all,  it  can  only 
be  by  the  larger  knowledge  of  them  which  only  seems  to 
come  through  death." 

And  after  that,  he  followed  her  breathlessly  down  the 
stairs,  through  the  hall,  into  the  library.  He  knelt  with 
her  beside  the  Bible  box,  and  with  her,  hesitated  to  open 
it  lest  it  might  contain  nothing  to  offer  except  a  dis- 
appointment of  hopes,  and  then  with  her,  suddenly  un- 
fastened the  unlocked  clasp  and  took  out  the  flame-red 
spinel,  and  the  rose-pink  beryl  —  all  the  stones  and  the 


73 

pearls  —  those  four  pearls  of  magic  beauty,  those  sea- 
gems  of  wondrous  lustre. 

With  her,  he  passed  through  an  ecstasy  of  joy  over 
the  beauty  of  them,  the  wonder  of  them,  the  mystery  of 
them.  He,  too,  desired  to  possess  them,  to  steal  them. 
Why  not  ?  No  one  would  know.  The  house  asleep  — 
no  sound  except  the  raging  of  the  wind.  The  oppor- 
tunity of  a  lifetime  —  almost  a  permission  given  by  the 
dead.  Why  not? 

With  her,  he  resisted,  painfully,  reluctantly,  with  the 
utmost  difficulty ;  with  her,  he  restacked  the  newspapers 
and  books  on  the  top  of  the  Bible  box.  With  her  he 
fled  from  the  room  before  the  temptation  had  time  to  re- 
assert itself. 

Tamar  ceased,  and  her  listener  leaned  back  in  the 
chair  and  drew  a  long  breath. 

"  Now  you  know  what  I  mean  when  I  say  I  could 
have  had  the  pearls  for  nothing,"  she  said,  after  a  long 
pause. 

He  inclined  his  head  as  if  in  assent. 

"  I  resolved  not  to  speak  of  my  search,"  she  contin- 
ued after  another  pause.  "  No  one  would  believe  that 
I  had  not  stolen,  if  not  the  pearls  —  well,  some  other 
stones.  I  should  not  believe  it  of  any  one  myself.  I 
wished  to  protect  myself  by  silence,  and  I  should  have 
continued  to  protect  myself  if  I  had  not  made  the  blun- 
der." 

She  broke  off,  for  he  got  up  suddenly  and  stood  be- 
fore her,  with  his  hand  stretched  out  for  her  to  grasp. 

"  I  believe  you,"  he  said  kindly.  "  Indeed,  I  believe 
you.  And  as  for  the  blunder  —  and  —  everything  else 
—  well,  what  does  it  matter?  Let's  wipe  out  the  re- 


74  WHERE  YOUR  HEART  IS 

membrance  of  it  and  begin  again.  Do  you  still  want 
the  pearls?" 

"  I  shall  always  want  them,"  Tamar  answered.  "  I 
might  not  see  them  for  ten  years,  for  twenty  years,  and 
yet  I  should  know  them  anywhere  —  and  always  desire 
them,  as  much,  even  more,  as  when  I  found  them,  alone, 
in  the  silence  of  the  night." 

It  crossed  his  mind  that  he  ought  to  let  her  have  them 
at  her  own  price.  And  then  as  suddenly  the  thought 
presented  itself  that  he  would  be  offering  her  an  indig- 
nity by  making  any  concession  to  her  in  return  for  her 
frank  confession  and  for  her  resistance  to  temptation. 
So  instead,  he  told  her  again  that  she  could  still  have 
them  when  she  wanted  them  for  two  thousand,  seven 
hundred  pounds.  In  her  shame  she  was  grateful  to  him 
for  not  having  offered  her  any  easier  terms.  Her  greed 
made  way  for  her  pale  ghost  of  pride  which  she  had 
hustled  out  and  Rupert  had  beckoned  in.  She  never 
forgot  that. 

"  Thank  you,"  she  said  gently.  "  I  accept  your 
offer.  And  I  thank  you  still  more  for  your  words  of 
belief  and  trust  and  your  chivalry.  It  is  chivalry." 

"  Is  it?  "  he  said  with  a  laugh.  "  Oh,  no,  nothing  as 
grand  as  that." 

And  with  that  same  repudiation  of  unimportances 
which  she  had  noticed  in  him  before,  he  swept  the  sordid 
part  of  the  incident  on  one  side. 

"  In  your  dream,"  he  said,  "  you've  held  communion 
with  my  father.  I  wish  I  had  had  that  luck.  I  have 
never  yet  dreamed  of  him  since  he  died.  But  I'm  going 
to  tell  you  something  that  I've  never  told  any  one  — 
not  even  the  girl  I'm  engaged  to.  I  haven't  spoken 
much  of  my  experiences  at  the  front.  One  cannot. 


WHERE  YOUR  HEART  IS  75 

Partly  one  wants  to  forget.  One  has  to  —  if  one  is 
going  to  keep  sane." 

He  paused  a  moment,  wrinkled  his  brow  as  if  remon- 
strating with  himself,  and  then  went  on:  ••. : 

"  We  were  on  the  Aisne.  We'd  just  about  reached 
the  German  trenches,  when  I  was  caught  by  an  explosive 
bullet  in  my  left  leg,  and  that  did  for  me.  Our  fellows 
were  driven  back  again,  and  I  was  left  behind.  I  was 
too  near  the  enemy  trenches  to  be  noticed.  I  was  right 
up  against  his  barbed  wire.  I  managed  to  creep  into 
a  shell  hole  about  ten  yards  off,  and  there  I  lay  for  four 
days  in  No  Man's  Land,  with  nothing  to  eat  and  noth- 
ing to  drink,  for  by  some  mischance  I  hadn't  even  got 
my  water-bottle  on.  I  gave  first  aid  to  myself,  of 
course,  and  did  what  I  could  for  myself,  but  I  was 
pretty  bad,  and  suffered  a  good  deal  and  lost  strength. 
I  knew  that  if  I  could  not  manage  to  save  myself,  I 
probably  couldn't  be  saved,  as  I  wasn't  likely  to  be 
found  right  out  there  in  No  Man's  Land.  I  was  not 
unconscious  any  of  the  time.  And  I  didn't  think  about 
anything  much  except  how  to  keep  my  senses.  I  sort 
of  f ocussed  on  that  —  endurance,  you  know,  dogged 
patience,  stubbornness  —  I  don't  know  what  you  call 
it.  I  said  to  myself  a  thousand  times :  *  If  I  keep  my 
wits  about  me,  I  may  save  myself.  If  I  lose  them,  I'm 
done  for.' ' 

He  paused  again,  and  Tamar  stirred  in  her  chair. 
She  glanced  at  the  pearls  after  which  she  had  been  han- 
kering with  an  inordinate  greed,  and  they  seemed  to  her 
like  dross. 

"  You'll  wonder  why  I  am  boring  you  with  all  this," 
he  said,  "  but  I'm  coming  to  the  point  now.  My 
thoughts  did  not  turn  to  my  home  and  my  home  people 


76  WHERE  YOUR  HEART  IS 

—  except  once.  If  I  thought  of  anything  at  all  except 
what  I've  told  you,  it  was  about  my  comrades,  how 
they'd  got  on  and  about  our  guns,  and  about  the  mad- 
ness and  silliness  of  nations  killing  each  other  off  at  the 
beck  and  call  of  kings  and  politicians.  I  do  remember 
that  crossing  my  mind  once  or  twice.  But  when  I  was 
at  my  lowest,  and  was  about  to  give  in,  I  suppose,  a 
curious  thing  happened  to  me:  I  heard  my  father  call 
me  distinctly.  And  a  great  and  sudden  yearning  came 
over  me  to  see  him  again.  I  had  always  loved  and  ad- 
mired my  father,  and  would  have  liked  to  be  nearer  to 
him.  But  he  was  a  strange  being,  given  over  entirely 
to  his  archaeology,  as  we  thought,  and  he  wasn't  very 
much  interested  in  his  children.  Marion  was  the  one 
who  was  most  intimate  with  him.  But  on  the  rare  occa- 
sions when  he  was  willing  to  be  bothered  with  my  com- 
panionship and  called  out  for  me  to  go  on  the  moors 
with  him,  I  was  ready  enough,  ,1  can  tell  you.  And  I 
was  ready  enough  when  I  heard  him  in  No  Man's  Land 
calling  to  me  so  clearly.  So  I  gathered  together  my 
last  remaining  bit  of  strength  and  courage,  and  began 
to  crawl  to  our  own  trenches.  It  took  me  three  days 
to  reach  them.  I  came  in  at  dawn.  When  I  was  within 
a  hundred  yards  of  them,  the  stretcher-bearers  saw  me 
and  got  me.  But  if  it  hadn't  been  for  my  father  — 
well,  I  shouldn't  be  here.  That  was  communion  of  some 
kind,  wasn't  it?  And  from  all  I  can  gather,  it  took 
place  just  about  the  time  he  nearly  died.  He  rallied 
for  a  time,  it  appears,  and  lived  a  few  weeks  longer. 
And  now  I  ask  myself,  have  I  lost  the  old  father  for 
ever,  or  have  I  just  begun  to  find  him,  the  barrier  of  life 
being  broken  down,  and  the  secret  of  his  temperament 
disclosed  —  and  explained  by  you?  For  you  have  ex- 


WHERE  YOUR  HEART  IS  77 

plained  a  good  deal,  interpreted,  alleviated,  reconciled. 
I  feel  enormously  grateful  to  you.  I  want  you  to  know 
that.  It  is  because  of  this  that  I  wished  to  tell  you 
about  No  Man's  Land." 

He  ceased.  Tamar  did  not  utter  a  word.  The  bare 
tale,  with  all  the  things  it  left  unsaid,  the  record  in 
some  respects  perhaps  of  thousands,  gripped  her, 
clutched  her.  The  battlefield,  modern  warfare  with  all 
its  fearful  developments,  suffering,  helplessness,  de- 
spair, endurance,  courage,  hope,  pluck,  failing  strength, 
a  dying  down  of  resistance  —  and  then  at  the  last  a 
spiritual  rally,  an  answer  to  the  last  call  of  some  one 
loved  and  looked  up  to  though  almost  inaccessible  — 
and  yet  potent  and  powerful  in  the  hour  of  need. 

When  at  length  Tamar  spoke,  it  was  almost  in  a  whis- 
per. 

"  Surely,"  she  said,  "  it  is  that  you  have  only  begun 
to  find  him.  Life  is  the  great  barrier  —  not  death. 
At  least,  that  is  my  own  secret  experience." 

She  packed  up  the  pearls  and  handed  the  little  parcel 
to  him. 

"  Take  them  away  and  keep  them  a  while,"  she  said. 
"  I  shall  still  want  them,  and  will  buy  them  from  you 
at  their  proper  value.  But  not  now.  For  the  moment 
they  appear  to  me  worthless,  and  worthless  all  the  pre- 
cious stones  stored  up  for  us  by  Nature  in  rock  or  gravel 
bed  —  rubies,  diamonds,  sapphires,  emeralds,  opals  — 
aU  of  them." 

And  alone,  she  faced  her  greed,  and  was  bowed  with 
shame. 


CHAPTER  VI 

TWO  or  three  days  after  the  episode  of  the  pearls, 
T.  Scott  and  Bramfield  went  to  Holland.  T. 
Scott's  last  day  was  a  busy  one.  Sellers  or  buyers 
came  in  an  endless  procession,  and  when  she  made  up  her 
books  that  night,  she  purred  over  the  discovery  that, 
regarded  from  every  aspect,  it  was  one  of  the  most  sat- 
isfactory business  days  ever  experienced  in  the  shop  in 
Dean  Street.  For  she  had  acquired  fresh  stock  at  ex- 
ceptionally low  prices,  and  got  rid  of  many  objects  of 
inferior  value  at  refreshingly  high  rates.  Not  once 
had  she  made  a  mistake.  Not  once  had  she  yielded  a 
point.  She  had,  in  fact,  been  at  her  commercial  best, 
and  had  entirely  recovered  from  that  passing  attack  of 
madness  when  pearls  and  precious  stones  had  appeared 
to  her  as  so  much  dross,  worthless,  despicable. 

Rupert  Thornton  was  her  last  visitor,  and  he  came 
neither  to  buy  nor  sell.  He  brought  his  fiancee,  Doro- 
thy Hall,  to  present  to  Tamar,  and  perhaps  that 
pleased  her  more  than  anything  that  had  happened  to 
her  for  a  long  time.  For  it  showed  that  he  had  for- 
given her  and  did  not  despise  her.  And  probably  he 
meant  her  to  understand  his  visit  in  that  way. 

"  This  is  my  wife-to-be,  T.  Scott,"  he  said  proudly. 
"  *  Chauffeuse  *  in  the  Motor  Ambulance  Section  of  the 
First  Aid  Nursing  Yeomanry  Corps,  known  as  the 
*  F.A.N.Y.'s.'  When  she  has  a  little  time  to  spare,  we 

are  going  to  get  married  on  the  strength  of  all  the  jew- 

78 


WHERE  YOUR  HEART  IS  79 

els  which  turned  up  unexpectedly.     Ripping,  isn't  it?  " 

Tamar  nodded.  She  liked  the  look  of  the  young 
woman  in  khaki  uniform.  She  had  seen  women  in  in- 
creasing numbers  in  uniform  in  the  streets,  but  had  not 
taken  any  interest  in  them.  She  understood  vaguely 
that  they  were  the  outcome  of  the  war,  and  were  doing 
new  things ;  but  as  the  war  was  not  her  concern,  the 
various  changes  and  innovations  taking  place  in  rapid 
succession  around  her  had  impressed  her  surprisingly, 
contemptibly  little.  Now  she  was  brought  into  direct 
contact  for  the  first  time  with  a  materialized  specimen 
of  a  new  type,  and  her  mind,  ready  enough  for  impres- 
sions when  she  chose,  leapt  out  to  meet  the  occasion. 

"  Ambulance  chauffeuse,"  she  said,  in  a  tone  of  voice 
which  evinced  friendly  interest  but  no  surprise.  "  Well, 
you  look  ready  enough  for  anything." 

"I  am,"  Dorothy  Hall  laughed.  "Like  all  the 
women,  if  the  Government  would  only  use  us.  However, 
they  will  have  to  in  time.  And  meanwhile  we  are  train- 
ing." 

Tamar  learnt  that  the  corps,  rejected,  of  course,  by 
the  English  Government,  had  offered  its  services  to  the 
Belgians,  and  had  worked  for  them  ever  since.  The 
girl  had  been  attached  to  the  corps  from  the  beginning, 
but  had  come  home  for  a  few  weeks  to  collect  money 
for  supplving  clothing,  comforts  and  dressings  for  the 
men,  and  also  for  running  a  convalescent  home  for  ty- 
phoids. She  was  off  again  shortly.  Their  command- 
ant had  all  sorts  of  schemes  on  hand,  and  she  was  hop- 
ing to  have  a  very  much  larger  fleet  of  motor  ambu- 
lances to  proceed  to  the  front  and  carry  wounded 
from  the  advanced  dressing  stations  to  the  nearest 
hospitals. 


80  WHERE  YOUR  HEART  IS 

"  Before  we  are  dead  and  buried,"  Dorothy  ended  up 
with,  "  we  hope  that  the  R.A.M.C.  will  take  us  on. 
Meanwhile  we  work  and  don't  weep !  " 

Tamar  liked  her.  She  was  a  fine-looking  young  crea- 
ture, with  soft  dark  brown  hair,  keen  eyes  and  a  fresh 
complexion.  She  was  strong  and  well  set-up,  and  gave 
the  impression  of  quiet  reliability.  She  was  very  keen 
on  her  job,  but  not  at  all  "  swanky."  And  in  her  way 
she  seemed  greatly  attached  to  Rupert,  and  proud  of 
what  he  had  done  and  been  through. 

"  One  of  the  first  to  serve  his  country,"  she  said. 
"  And  hating  war  and  everything  to  do  with  killing. 
And  yet  up  he  sprang  and  went  off  with  the  first  Terri- 
torials. I  must  say  I  should  have  hated  him  if  he 
hadn't!" 

Tamar  was  in  mighty  good  humour  owing  to  the  suc- 
cessful transactions  of  the  day.  Rupert's  forgiveness 
had  increased  it,  and  she  was  really  glad  to  have  the 
companionship  of  these  two  young  people,  lovers  and 
comrades  too,  who  seemed  so  happy  and  direct  and  free, 
and  whose  laughter  sounded  like  gracious  music  in  the 
shop  and  started  her  thinking  vaguely  of  some  of  the 
things  she  had  missed  in  life,  ignored,  brushed  aside, 
undervalued.  She  did  something  which  surprised  her 
and  made  her  smile  grimly  in  the  very  act  of  perpetra- 
tion. She  thought  of  Mrs.  Bridge,  her  old  char,  and 
of  how  astonished  she  would  be  if  she  knew  of  this  ex- 
travagance. She  opened,  in  fact,  a  pint  of  golden 
Tokay,  several  bottles  of  which  she  had  prized  and 
hoarded  for  years,  produced  some  beautiful  old  liqueur 
glasses,  and  slowly,  rather  grudgingly,  poured  into 
them  the  rich-coloured  liquid,  the  very  shade  itself  of 
golden  beryl. 


WHERE  YOUR  HEART  IS  81 

She  raised  her  own  glass,  into  which  she  had  poured 
a  few  drops  only. 

"  To  love  and  young  happiness !  "  she  said,  smiling  at 
them  benevolently. 

"  Why,  it's  like  drinking  jewels,"  Rupert  said,  smack- 
ing his  lips.  "  Never  have  I  tasted  anything  so  deli- 
cious." 

"  Nor  I,"  said  the  ambulance  driver.  "  It  must  be 
nectar  itself." 

Tarnar  nodded  approval  of  their  comments,  but 
corked  the  bottle  with  anxious  haste. 

This  little  incident  gave  T.  Scott  a  happy  send-off 
.to  Holland,  and  when  she  met  Christopher  Bramfield  at 
Victoria  Station  she  was  at  her  best,  jubilant  over  her 
good  business,  content  to  shut  up  her  shop  for  a  short 
time,  and  relieved  to  have  swept  all  her  remorse  away, 
and  frankly  glad  for  this  outing  and  the  break  in  her 
life.  Bramfield  was  in  splendid  form,  and  delighted  to 
get  T.  Scott  to  himself.  He  half  wondered  whether  he 
might  not  safely  risk  proposing  to  her  again  since  she 
was  in  such  an  exceptionally  pleasant  mood,  and,  for 
her,  quite  human.  But  he  wisely  decided  not  to  jeop- 
ardize this  chance  of  happy  camaraderie,  and  contented 
himself  with  thinking  how  glorious  it  would  be  if  they 
were  really  on  their  honeymoon.  For  he  had  always 
wanted  Tamar,  and  always  would  want  her.  Never  had 
he  faltered  in  his  love  for  her.  Nothing  had  ever 
changed  the  nature  of  his  devotion,  neither  her  sullen- 
ness,  her  sulkiness,  her  rudeness,  her  graspingness,  nor 
her  silent,  secret  loyalty  to  some  one  whom  she  had 
loved  in  the  past.  Once  only  she  had  spoken  of  it. 

"  You  know,  Bramfield,"  she  had  said.     "  I've  had  my 


82  WHERE  YOUR  HEART  IS 

own  little  bit  of  romance.  I'm  not  hypocrite  enough 
to  pretend  that  having  had  it,  I'm  immersed  in  the  mem- 
ory of  it  to  the  exclusion  of  every  other  thought,  inter- 
est and  possibility.  That,  I  believe,  is  the  usual  atti- 
tude of  mind  insisted  on  by  writers  of  fiction.  But  in 
real  life  people  pass  on.  I've  passed  on.  The  chap- 
ter is  closed.  Other  chapters  have  followed  and  will 
follow,  but  there  could  never  be,  in  my  remaining  years 
of  record,  a  repetition  of  romance.  Never.  This  is 
my  answer  to  you,  and  you  must  accept  it  as  final." 

But  he  never  had  accepted  it  as  final,  and  did  not 
now  accept  it,  even  though  he  acted  his  part  to  perfec- 
tion as  an  old  friend  of  long-standing  who  wanted  to 
give  and  take  only  friendship  and  that  settled  intimate 
but  impersonal  sympathy  arising  out  of  interests  and 
enthusiasms  shared  in  common. 

They  had  a  good  crossing  immune  from  mines  and 
submarines  and  landed  safely  at  Flushing,  where  an 
amazing  and  a  moving  scene  awaited  them  on  the  sta- 
tion-platform. It  was  crowded  with  hundreds  and  hun- 
dreds of  refugees  fleeing  from  the  German  invasion  — 
priests  and  sisters  and  peasants  laden  with  their  pos- 
sessions, old  men  and  aged  women,  and  young  children 
with  their  dolls  and  toys,  and  fishermen  with  their  nets, 
and  prosperous  people  with  their  personable  luggage, 
all  alike,  rich  and  poor,  old  and  young,  seeking  safety, 
somehow,  somewhere,  in  those  early  days  of  overwhelm- 
ing panic.  Bramfield  fell  in  with  a  Canadian  journalist 
friend  who  had  just  arrived  from  the  Belgian  frontier, 
where  he  had  witnessed  the  bewildering,  heart-breaking 
sight  of  thousands  of  the  terror-stricken  inhabitants  of 
the  invaded  country  pouring  as  an  avalanche  into  Hol- 
land. He  had  dashed  off  an  appeal  to  the  Canadian 


WHERE  YOUR  HEART  IS  83 

public  for  funds  in  aid  of  the  American  Commission  for 
Relief  in  Belgium,  and  when  he  had  cabled  it,  he  re- 
turned to  the  refreshment  room  to  ease  his  spirit  by 
telling  Bramfield  some  of  the  details  which  had  touched 
him  to  the  very  depths  of  his  nature.  Tamar  had 
never  seen  any  one  so  moved.  Her  stony  stare  melted 
into  something  like  understanding  when  he  spoke  to  her 
and  took  it  for  granted  that  she  also  cared  —  that  she 
also  was  appalled  by  the  agony  of  Belgium. 

This  was  Tamar's  first  realization  of  the  results  of 
the  war.  She  had  heard  that  there  were  thousands  of 
Belgian  refugees  in  England,  but  they  had  meant  noth- 
ing to  her;  and  the  few  stray  ones  she  had  seen,  were 
rich  Antwerp  people  who  had  come  to  her  shop  and 
spent  their  money  lavishly.  She  had  sold  to  them  in 
those  early  days  one  or  two  of  her  most  treasured  an- 
tiques and  several  costly  rings,  and  that  was  all  she 
knew  about  Belgian  refugees.  But  here  she  saw  a  state 
of  things  she  would  never  have  believed  possible,  and  it 
flashed  through  her  mind  that  the  memory  of  the  scene 
would  be  haunting,  unforgettable.  She  said  as  much  to 
Gertrude  Linton,  whom  Bramfield  had  found  immedi- 
ately on  their  arrival.  She  had  joined  their  little 
group,  andj  together  with  the  Canadian  journalist,  had 
made  a  dash  for  the  counter  and  emerged  from  the  con- 
fused masses  with  coffee  and  sandwiches  for  Bramfield 
and  Tamar  and  all  of  them.  She  told  Tamar  that  she 
was  stationed  at  Flushing,  working  both  with  our  own 
Local  Government,  who  were  organizing  the  shipment 
of  refugees  to  England,  and  the  Society  of  Friends,  who 
were  helping  the  Dutch  with  their  refugee  problem  in 
Holland.  It  was  easy  to  see  that  she  was  the  very  one 
to  cope  with  emergencies,  for  she  was  full  of  vitality 


84  WHERE  YOUR  HEART  IS 

and  resourcefulness,  could  speak  to  the  peasants  in 
something  approximately  like  their  own  patois,  and  was 
evidently  exceedingly  human  and  kind,  in  a  way,  too, 
which  imparted  resilience  and  bestowed  courage.  She 
had  dancing  eyes  and  a  gay  laugh.  Tamar  had  never 
met  any  one  of  this  description  before,  and  Miss  Linton 
evidently  produced  a  curious  effect  on  her :  for  contrary 
to  her  usual  habit  of  maintaining  a  sulky  silence  with  a 
stranger,  she  felt  positively  impelled  to  speak  to  her 
about  the  tragic  plight  of  all  these  people  driven  from 
their  homes  and  villages. 

"  Wait  till  you  see  the  barges  and  the  concentration 
camps,"  Miss  Linton  said.  "  Then  you'll  know  some- 
thing about  the  misery  of  these  poor  Belgians." 

"  I  shan't  be  seeing  them,"  Tamar  said  curtly. 

"  Oh,  but  it's  quite  necessary  for  you  to  see  them  if 
you're  going  to  help,"  Miss  Linton  urged.  "  Fright- 
fully harrowing,  of  course,  but  one  gets  an  insight  and 
a  grasp  of  conditions  which  one  could  not  hope  to  get 
in  any  other  way." 

"  I  have  not  come  to  help,"  Tamar  said  sulkily. 
"  I've  come  over  on  business." 

Gertrude  Linton  glanced  at  her  in  surprise. 

"  Oh,"  she  said,  with  a  slight  change  of  manner  which 
seemed  to  denote  that,  such  being  the  case,  Tamar  did 
not  count.  "  I  quite  thought  you  were  going  to  be  one 
of  us,  as  you  were  with  Mr.  Bramfield,  who  is  so  splen- 
did. I  don't  know  what  we  should  do  without  him." 

"  What  does  he  do,  then,  that's  so  wonderful  ? " 
Tamar  asked. 

"What  doesn't  he  do?"  Miss  Linton  answered. 
"  Why,  from  the  very  beginning  he  looked  after  the  ref- 
ugees when  they  arrived  in  England.  Night  after  night 


WHERE  YOUR  HEART  IS  85 

he  was  /at  the  stations,  untiring,  unfailing  in  his  efforts. 
And  he  was  one  of  those  who  put  it  to  the  Government 
that  there  should  be  some  systematic  handling  of  the 
sailings  from  here  and  the  arrivals  in  England.  Is  it 
possible  that  you  don't  know?  " 

"  No,  I  don't  know,"  T.  Scott  said,  half  ashamed,  and 
already  a  little  uncomfortable  at  being  regarded  as  an 
outsider,  with  interests  distinct  from  those  of  this  in- 
ner circle.  With  something  like  envy  she  watched  Ger- 
trude Linton  passing  amongst  the  crowd,  talking  now 
to  this  old  peasant,  now  to  this  little  child,  and  once  she 
saw  her  bending  down  to  a  little  fair-haired  boy,  touch- 
ing him  on  the  head,  and  holding  out  her  hand  with  the 
words:  "  Gi  polk."  (Give  the  hand.) 

Later,  she  said  to  Bramfield: 

"  That  Miss  Linton  tells  me  you've  been  concerning 
yourself  about  the  welfare  of  the  Belgian  refugees.  Is 
it  true?  " 

"  I  suppose  it  is  true,"  he  answered  a  little  shyly,  for 
he  had  seldom  if  ever  spoken  to  Tamar  of  his  war  activi- 
ties. "  One  couldn't  go  on  as  if  nothing  was  happening, 
you  know." 

"  Well,  I've  been  able  to,"  she  said  grimly.  "  I  can't 
deny  that,  can  I?  " 

"  No,"  he  replied,  looking  on  the  ground.  "  But, 
somehow,  one  did  not  expect  otherwise  from  you  — 
didn't  even  wish  it  from  you  —  on  the  whole." 

She  was  silent,  but  his  words,  if  he  had  only  known, 
were  a  greater  reproach  to  her  than  any  reprimand. 
Others,  presumably,  were  to  be  counted  on,  as  a  mat- 
ter of  course,  to  give  themselves  freely  in  this  hour  of 
emergency,  to  offer  time,  money,  strength,  enterprise, 
but  she,  Tamar,  was  to  be  exempted ;  and  the  only  per- 


86  WHERE  YOUR  HEART  IS 

son  who  knew  anything  about  her,  did  not  even  dream 
of  reckoning  her  amongst  the  number  of  willing  helpers. 
That  was  what  Bramfield  thought  of  her.  The  realiza- 
tion of  it  stirred  in  her  a  vague  feeling  of  uneasy  dis- 
content with  her  own  aims  and  outlook. 

Gertrude  Lint  on  and  one  of  the  members  of  the  Amer- 
ican Commission  for  Relief  accompanied  them  that  same 
afternoon  to  Rotterdam.  They  went  to  an  hotel  on  the 
quay,  and  Tamar  had  a  room  looking  right  on  to  the 
Maas,  and  a  view,  therefore,  of  the  shipping  which  de- 
lighted and  almost  excited  her.  For  she  was  fond  of 
any  kind  of  watercraft.  She  loved  barges,  tugs,  steam- 
ers, boats.  In  London  they  were  almost  her  only  pleas- 
ure outside  her  joy  in  her  antiques  and  precious  stones. 
Here  then,  at  Rotterdam,  she  saw  them  in  profusion, 
and  could  scarcely  tear  herself  away  from  the  window 
when  Miss  Linton  came  to  fetch  her  down  to  dinner. 

They  were  an  interesting  group  in  the  sitting-room 
that  night.  Amongst  them  was  the  Rotterdam  repre- 
sentative of  the  Commission  for  Relief  in  Belgium,  whose 
headquarters  were  at  Rotterdam.  His  charming  wife 
was  there  also,  together  with  two  other  members  of  the 
Commission.  The  American  military  attache  at  The 
Hague,  who  had  just  been  to  Berlin  to  inquire  into  and 
arrange  about  further  canal  service  for  the  fleet  of 
barges  which  conveyed  the  food  into  Belgium,  was  also 
present.  There  was  also  a  merry  Canadian  skipper, 
very  popular  with  them  all,  who  had  braved  the  mine- 
fields in  the  dark  and  brought  in  a  relief  ship  from  Can- 
ada twelve  hours  before  his  time.  He  was  really  very 
proud  of  this  feat,  though  when  congratulated,  all  he 
said  was : 


WHERE  YOUR  HEART  IS  87 

"  Well,  well,  the  little  children  had  to  have  their  food 
as  soon  as  possible,  hadn't  they  ?  " 

He  addressed  his  question  to  Tamar,  taking  it  for 
granted  that  she  was  pleased  with  his  performance. 

"  Yes,  they  have  had  to  have  it  as  soon  as  possible," 
she  repeated  mechanically. 

"  Of  course  they  had  to  have  it,"  Captain  Smith  said, 
slapping  his  knee.  "  Why,  my  good  woman,  they're 
starving." 

"  Starving?  "  she  repeated. 

"  Why,  yes,"  he  answered  impatiently.  "  Haven't 
you  seen  the  latest  reports?  They  are  enough  to  make 
one  weep.  Haven't  you  read  about  Malines  ?  " 

"  No,"  she  said,  shaking  her  head.  "  But  I  heard 
that  newspaper  man  over  there  speak  of  things  he  had 
seen." 

And  she  added,  as  if  in  excuse : 

"  I  have  only  just  arrived." 

"  Well,"  he  insisted,  "  ask  him  to  show  you  one  of  his 
articles.  That  will  give  you  an  idea." 

It  was  Miss  Linton  who  came  to  her  rescue  and  di- 
verted the  skipper  into  another  channel,  a  service  for 
which  poor  Tamar  was  devoutly  thankful,  and  which 
confirmed  the  good  impression  Miss  Linton  had  made  on 
her.  But  she  was  soon  run  in  by  an  English  lady  living 
in  Groningen,  who  had  come  over  to  see  what  help  and 
clothing  she  could  collect  for  the  English  Naval  Divi- 
sion and  Belgian  soldiers  interned  there.  Very  earnest 
and  kind  was  this  lady,  but  fiercely  bent  on  saving  the 
soul  of  the  gallant  sea-captain  —  so  much  so  that  it  was 
understood  by  the  little  community  that  he  was  never 
to  be  left  alone  to  her  mercy. 

"  Any  amount  of  mines  and  submarines,"  he  said,  with 


88  WHERE  YOUR  HEART  IS 

a  twinkle  in  his  eye.  "  But  not  that  kind  of  danger 
without  due  protection.  I  guess  it's  up  to  the  Commis- 
sion to  provide  me  with  a  convoy  when  that  good  lady 
is  anywhere  around." 

She  was  drifting,  as  usual,  over  to  him,  when  the 
danger  was  averted  by  the  arrival  of  a  young  Harvard 
undergraduate,  the  Commission's  official  messenger  be- 
tween Brussels  and  Rotterdam.  He  had  been  arrested 
thirteen  times,  and  was  "  full  of  beans."  He  wore  his 
passport  framed  and  slung  over  his  chest. 

"  Too  boring  to  have  to  produce  it  each  time,"  he  said 
with  a  laugh. 

He  had  been  through  thrilling  experiences,  some  of 
which  he  narrated  with  great  humour;  but  when  he  be- 
gan to  speak  of  some  of  the  terrible  sights  he  had  seen 
in  the  villages,  and  the  frightful  stories  he  had  heard, 
young  and  light-hearted  and  dashing  though  he  was,  he 
broke  down.  Nothing,  he  said,  could  exaggerate  the 
misery  of  the  land.  The  deserted  fields  were  cemeteries 
of  the  dead.  Women  and  children  sought  refuge  in  the 
ruins  of  their  ropfless  homes  and  were  terrified  at  his 
approach.  He  could  never  forget  the  fear  on  their 
faces.  He  had  had  a  few  provisions  on  him.  When  he 
gave  them  food,  they  kissed  his  hands. 

He  broke  off  when  a  man  of  military  appearance,  but 
in  civilian  attire  and  obviously  a  German,  entered  the 
general  sitting-room  where  the  company  had  assembled, 
sat  down  at  a  table  at  the  farther  end  of  the  room  and 
began  to  write. 

A  hush  fell  on  them  all.  As  long  as  they  were  alone 
and  undisturbed,  they  had  been  talking  freely  about 
plans  and  difficulties  and  possibilities ;  but  now  their  pri- 
vacy had  come  to  an  end,  and  they  had  to  be  cautious. 


WHERE  YOUR  HEART  IS  89 

When  they  began  to  speak  again,  their  conversation  was 
entirely  non-committal,  and  could  liave  been  safely 
transmitted  to  Berlin  without  any  pernicious  conse- 
quences. Captain  Smith,  with  a  sly  wink  at  the  Amer- 
ican Consul,  began  to  talk  about  his  favourite  brand  of 
whisky,  really  to  tease  the  Groningen  lady,  who  looked 
at  Vim  reproachfully  and  shook  her  head  sorrowfully. 
The  official  messenger  became  suddenly  eloquent  about 
the  virtues  of  his  grandmother  in  Colorado,  the  man- 
ager of  the  Dutch  Shipping  Agency  Company,  whose 
firm  attended  to  the  transhipment  of  the  cargoes  of  food 
to  Belgium  and  who  had  been  arranging  business  with 
the  Rotterdam  representative,  maintained  an  entire 
silence.  Miss  Linton  broke  out  into  a  rhapsody  on 
Dutch  cheese,  and  reminded  Tamar  that  Alkmaar,  the 
place  she  and  Bramfield  were  going  to  on  the  morrow, 
was  the  centre  of  the  cheese  trade  in  the  North.  The 
Canadian  journalist  took  out  his  notebook  and  began 
to  write  another  dispatch.  The  Belgian  delegue  of  the 
Belgian  Comite  de  Secours  et  d' Alimentation  glared  at 
the  intruder  with  a  fierceness  which  he  made  no  attempt 
to  control. 

"  A  spy,"  Bramfield  whispered  to  Tamar.  "  We  shut 
up  like  oysters  when  he  is  anywhere  near.  One  can't 
be  too  careful.  They  follow  us  about,  watching  and 
listening,  hoping  to  pick  up  some  bit  of  information. 
You'd  better  be  on  your  guard  whilst  you're  here." 

"  Well,  they  couldn't  learn  much  from  me,  Bramfield, 
could  they?"  Tamar  said  quaintly.  "No  one  could 
accuse  me  of  having  any  information  to  impart  on 
events  happening  outside  my  own  shop." 

He  laughed  and  she  laughed.  It  struck  her  as  being 
exceedingly  funny  that  he,  of  all  people,  should  warn 


90  WHERE  YOUR  HEART  IS 

.her  against  spies.  He  saw  the  humour  of  his  admoni- 
tion and,  tickled  by  the  fun,  continued : 

"  Now,  mind,  T.  Scott,  not  a  word  about  the  changes 
in  the  Cabinet,  nor  speeches  in  the  House  of  Commons ; 
not  a  single  word  about  conditions  at  home,  nor  strikes, 
good  recruiting,  bad  recruiting,  War  Loans,  war  prepa- 
rations, public  feeling.  Be  as  cautious,  T.  Scott,  as 
though  your  country  were  a  pigeon-blood  ruby,  flaw- 
less, and  three  carats  in  weight !  " 

**  Your  spy  has  only  got  one  hand,"  she  said.  "  His 
left  one  is  false." 

"  Well,  I've  never  noticed  that,"  he  said.  "  You're 
right,  though.  You  have  got  lynx  eyes." 

"  I've  got  some  intelligence,"  she  answered,  with  a 
smile. 

When  the  German  had  left  the  room,  Bramfield  told 
the  company  about  T.  Scott's  discovery.  They  seemed 
to  think  that  they  had  all  been  singularly  unobservant, 
and  that  she  had  found  out  something  which  might  come 
in  useful  in  some  unexpected  circumstances.  It  was 
only  a  little  trifling  incident,  of  course,  but  it  had  the 
immediate  effect  of  giving  Tamar  a  status  amongst  her 
new  companions.  And  Bramfield  was  secretly  de- 
lighted; it  had  positively  hurt  him  to  see  her  in  their 
midst,  an  outsider,  of  no  consequence,  negligible.  She 
might  not  care,  he  said  to  himself,  but  he  cared ;  for  he 
had  been  accustomed  for  years  now  to  see  her  in  her 
own  setting,  where  she  counted,  controlled,  ruled.  Any 
position  less  than  that  was  unthinkable  for  Tamar. 

She  did  not  sleep  much  that  night.  She  watched  the 
lights  in  the  harbour,  and  thought  about  all  these 
strangers  she  had  met,  whose  eagerness,  enthusiasm  and 
disinterestedness  were  a  revelation  to  her.  None  of 


WHERE  YOUR  HEART  IS  91 

them  seemed  to  be  living  a  personal  life  nor  to  be  inter- 
ested in  their  own  private  concerns.  As  she  recalled  it, 
their  entire  attention  was  focussed  on  the  problem  of 
helping  the  refugees,  housing  the  ones  remaining  in  Hol- 
land, speeding  on  their  way  those  who  were  going  to 
England,  feeding  the  seven  million  Belgians  shut  off 
from  the  outside  world  in  Belgium,  overcoming  all  the 
international  difficulties  of  this  gigantic  task  of  amaz- 
ing philanthropy,  and  planning  reconstruction  of  their 
national  life  against  the  time  when  the  war  would  be  over 
and  their  land  free  from  German  occupation.  When  at 
last  she  slept,  Bramfield's  words  were  borne  to  her  in  her 
dreams : 

"  Well,  one  couldn't  go  on  as  if  nothing  was  happen- 
ing, you  know." 

"  I've  been  going  on  as  if  nothing  was  happening," 
she  answered. 

"  Yes,  but  one  didn't  expect  otherwise  from  you,"  he 
said. 

That  was  not  pleasant  to  hear,  even  in  a  dream. 


CHAPTER  VII 

THE  next  day  Bramfield  and  Tamar  went  to  Alk- 
maar,  the  centre  of  the  North  Holland  cheese  trade. 
It  was  a  Friday,  market  day,  and  the  "  Dijk,"  the  large 
square,  was  filled  with  gay-coloured  carts  of  the  boers 
of  the  surrounding  villages,  picturesque-looking  traps, 
with  lines  of  poetry  painted  on  the  tailboards.  Thou- 
sands of  pounds  of  yellow  and  red  cheeses,  each  marked 
with  the  initials  of  the  peasants,  were  spread  out  in 
front  of  the  Weigh  House. 

They  lingered  a  while  to  see  this  interesting  specta- 
cle, which,  however,  was  familiar  to  Tamar  as  well  as 
Bramfield,  and  then  took  the  steam  tramway  to  Egmond 
op  den  Hoof,  which  would  bring  them  within  two  or 
three  miles  of  their  destination,  the  home  of  Weduwe 
Maas. 

As  they  sped  along  the  country,  Bramfield  said : 

"  It  is  amazing  to  think  of  the  peacefulness  on  this 
side  of  the  frontier  and  the  agony  on  the  other  —  only 
a  few  miles  separating  ordinary  normal  life  from  a  tre- 
mendous tragedy.  Here,  these  quiet  little  homes,  pros- 
perous and  untouched;  and  over  there,  only  ruin  and 
desolation.  One  shudders  lest  a  similar  fate  should 
overtake  this  land  too." 

But  Tamar  did  not  rise  to  the  realization  of  such  a 
possibility.  She  was  attuned  to  business  and  her  mind 
was  only  occupied  with  thoughts  of  the  valuable  silver 
collection  belonging  to  Weduwe  Maas.  At  that  mo- 
ment the  fate  of  any  nation  would  have  been  a  matter 

92 


WHERE  YOUR  HEART  IS  93 

of  entire  indifference  to  her ;  and,  so  far  as  she  was  con- 
cerned, all  the  inhabitants  of  all  the  countries  could 
have  suddenly  become  panic-stricken  refugees  without 
disturbing  her  equanimity. 

"  Did  you  say  there  were  three  or  four  nefs,  B ram- 
field  ?  "  she  asked,  ignoring  his  remarks. 

He  smiled  indulgently. 

"  Four,  I  think,"  he  answered.  "  I  know  that  one  of 
them  is  very  beautifully  chased,  and  another  exception- 
ally large;  but  the  best  is  said  to  be  small  and  jewelled 
rather  richly  —  quite  unusual." 

Tamar's  eyes  sparkled.  She  resolved  to  keep  them 
some  time  for  her  own  pleasure,  and  then  sell  them  at 
a  stimulating  profit.  When  they  got  to  Egmond,  they 
secured  a  trap,  and  passed  through  more  little  formal 
villages,  with  their  prim  rows  of  trees  painted  blue  half- 
way up  the  trunks,  and  their  precise  houses  and  neat 
green  windows.  Tamar  became  quite  excited  at  the 
prospect  awaiting  her,  but  was  rather  cross  when  they 
arrived  at  a  most  evilly  smelling  village,  the  horror  of 
which  considerably  modified  her  secret  transports. 

"  What  on  earth  have  you  brought  me  to,  Bram- 
field?  "  she  said. 

He  laughed. 

"  Never  mind,"  he  said.  "It's  worth  it.  Bear  up, 
Tamar.  Don't  be  cross.  Four  of  your  favourite  nefs, 
and  one  of  them  jewelled.  Remember  that  and  keep 
your  nostrils  closed !  " 

They  drew  up  at  a  comfortable-looking  house,  at  a 
comparatively  comfortable  distance  from  the  smell,  and 
were  received  by  a  buxom  woman  of  many  petticoats, 
of  course  in  peasant  attire,  and  with  the  curious  head- 
dress of  the  district.  Bramfield  produced  a  letter  to 


94  WHERE  YOUR  HEART  IS 

show  that  he  was  the  person  with  whom  the  family  had 
been  in  correspondence,  and  before  long  Tamar  and  he 
found  themselves  in  a  large  kitchen,  with  large  chest 
and  massive  cupboards  which  would  have  delighted  the 
heart  of  any  lover  of  antique  furniture.  They  were 
bidden  to  hospitality,  for  Bramfield  had  been  introduced 
by  one  of  the  Wcduwe  Maas's  oldest  friends,  and  they 
sat  down  to  coffee  of  fragrant  brew,  and  bread,  butter, 
raw  salted  herring,  known  as  pekel-haring,  and  some 
very  trying  cheese,  made  from  goat's  milk,  schaper- 
kaas,  which  was  offered  as  a  delicacy  in  honour  of  the 
guests.  T.  Scott,  never  an  adept  at  courtesy  or  even 
the  semblance  of  it,  was  prepared  to  refuse  everything 
put  before  her,  whilst  her  eyes  roamed  over  the  room, 
noting  the  beds  in  the  wall  and  all  the  objects  of  inter- 
est, and  trying  to  guess  where  the  silver  treasures  were 
for  which  she  had  made  the  journey.  Preliminaries 
were  a  bore  to  her,  but  Bramficld  whispered  to  her  that 
she  really  must  put  up  with  them  and  behave  herself, 
and  eat  a  lot  of  pekel-haring  and  schaper-kaas,  and  pre- 
tend to  enjoy  it. 

"  You'll  give  offence,  Tamar,"  he  said,  "  and  then 
you  won't  find  it  easy  to  get  what  you  want  at  a  rea- 
sonable price,  or  perhaps  you  won't  get  it  at  all.  Then 
you'll  have  made  the  journey  in  vain  and  wasted  all 
your  money." 

The  devastating  thought  of  wasting  money  braced 
Tamar  up  to  immediate  control.  She  became  gracious 
in  her  queer,  sulky  way,  ate  all  the  pekel-haring  and 
schapcr-kaas,  nodded  in  friendly  fashion  when  the  We- 
duwe  addressed  her,  ceased  to  stare  at  the  furniture, 
and  bowed  at  intervals  to  the  furrowed  old  peasant 
woman,  the  Weduwe's  old  mother,  who  sat  by  the  win- 


WHERE  YOUR  HEART  IS  95 

dow,   knitting,    serene,   smiling   and  pleased   with   the 
attentions  of  the  guests. 

At  last  Tamar  was  rewarded  for  her  patience.  She 
was  taken  to  an  inner  room,  crowded  with  possessions, 
and  Weduwe  Maas  produced  from  a  large  chest  a  most 
beautiful  little  jewelled  nef,  such  as  she  had  never  before 
seen.  She  wisely  suppressed  an  exclamation  of  delight, 
but  her  eyes  danced  with  glee.  Three  other  nefs  were 
in  turn  displayed,  and  silver  candle-sticks,  silver  boxes, 
buckles,  very  large  buttons,  spoons,  brooches,  collars, 
head  ornaments,  head-dresses  —  all  very  old  and  fine. 

Then  the  bargaining  began.  Bramfield  stood  en- 
joying hugely  the  contest  between  the  two  women.  He 
did  not  remember  when  he  had  had  such  fun.  It 
amused  him  to  see  that  T.  Scott  had  evidently  met  her 
match.  She  had  to  give  in  and  pay  a  larger  price  than 
she  was  willing,  not  only  for  the  Dutch  ships,  but  for  all 
the  other  things.  The  truth  was  that  she  had  yielded 
because  she  had  seen  in  the  crow's  nest  of  the  jewelled 
nef  a  stone  which  she  believed  was  a  really  fine  emerald, 
and  if  that  were  the  case,  the  victory  was  hers  and  We- 
duwe Maas  badly  vanquished!  She  chuckled  over  this 
uplifting  probability,  and  kept  the  matter  to  herself 
for  some  time  on  their  way  back.  She  placidly  suffered 
Bramfield  to  tease  her  about  having  found  a  worthy 
rival  in  the  science  of  driving  a  hard  bargain. 

"  I  always  thought  you  were  top  dog  in  that  respect, 
T.  Scott,"  he  said,  with  a  smile.  "  But  plainly  there 
are  others  who  almost  approach  your  high-water  mark 
of  perfection.  The  Weduwe  was  a  tough  one,  wasn't 
she?  You  had  to  give  in,  after  all,  and  let  the  old  dame 
have  her  own  way.  Well,  the  nefs  are  all  beauties,  and 
I'm  glad  you've  got  them.  It  was  worth  while  risking 


96  WHERE  YOUR  HEART  IS 

the  mines  and  submarines,  coming  this  distance  and  eat- 
ing the  pekel-haring  and  schaper-kaas,  wasn't  it,  and 
climbing  down  a  little,  though  I  suppose  you  won't  ever 
admit  that?  " 

"  I  sha'n't  have  to,  Bramfield,"  she  said  at  last,  with  a 
grim  .smile.  "Unless  I  am  greatly  mistaken,  there  is 
an  emerald  in  the  crow's  nest  of  that  jewelled  nef  which 
is  of  real  value.  I  may  be  mistaken,  on  such  a  hasty 
examination,  but  I  don't  think  I  am.  When  I  sus- 
pected this,  I  thought  it  worth  while  to  let  Weduwe 
Maas  have  her  own  way." 

He  laughed. 

"  You're  a  wonder,  Tamar,"  he  said.  "  So  that  was 
why  you  were  so  compliant  1  No,  I  don't  suppose  you 
are  mistaken,  really.  I  have  never  known  you  to  be  — 
certainly  not  over  emeralds.  You  have  a  natural  in- 
stinct about  them." 

She  nodded. 

"  Yes,"  she  said,  "  my  birth  stones,  you  remember." 

So  back  they  came  to  Rotterdam,  in  great  good  hu- 
mour, Bramfield  delighted  with  the  success  of  the  expe- 
dition, and  Tamar  much  elated  by  what  she  considered 
her  triumph  over  the  Weduwe's  undoubted  business 
qualities,  and  buoyed  up  at  the  prospect  of  the  hand- 
some profits  she  would  be  likely  to  make  over  her  trans- 
actions of  the  day.  She  had  forgotten  about  the  war 
and  the  plight  of  the  refugees  and  the  fate  of  the  starv- 
ing seven  million  inhabitants  of  Belgium.  Only  the 
thought  of  the  emerald  in  the  crow's  nest  possessed  her 
mind.  Was  she  mistaken  about  it?  No,  impossible. 
On  closer  examination,  would  it  indeed  prove  to  be  as 
flawless  as  she  had  judged  it  at  first  sight?  Yes, 


WHERE  YOUR  HEART  IS  97 

surely.  Could  she,  by  any  chance,  have  been  deceived 
about  its  grass-green  colour?  No,  entirely  improb- 
able. But  supposing  such  were  the  case,  she  had  never- 
theless secured  for  herself  a  sufficient  margin  for  a 
profit  by  no  means  negligible.  So  really  there  was  noth- 
ing to  worry  about. 

Dominated  by  these  questions  and  answers  and  by 
this  consoling  conclusion,  Tamar  sought  the  sitting- 
room,  where  she  found  the  company  reinforced  by  sev- 
eral other  people,  amongst  them  the  President  of  the 
Dutch  Committee  for  Support  to  Belgians,  which  was 
doing  valuable  work  for  the  relief  of  their  distressed 
guests,  a  Rhodes  scholar  who  brought  in  a  report  on 
the  distribution  and  redistribution  of  the  food  sent 
from  the  United  States  and  the  Dominions,  and  a  coun- 
cillor from  one  of  the  towns  in  Belgium,  who  had  been 
released  provisionally  by  the  Germans  to  ma*ke  some 
arrangements  with  the  Commission  on  behalf  of  his  com- 
munity. 

Captain  Smith  rallied  her  about  her  absence,  and  told 
her  she  had  missed  several  interesting  events,  the  most 
important  of  which  had  been  the  arrival  of  another  re- 
lief vessel,  containing  several  tons  of  condensed  milk,  so 
urgently  needed  to  save  the  lives  of  the  little  ones. 
Also,  eight  barges,  towed  by  four  express  tugs,  had  left 
Rotterdam  with  further  relief  for  Brussels,  to  say 
nothing  of  the  other  barges  dispatched  in  other  direc- 
tions. 

"  Now  see  what  you've  missed,"  he  said.  "  Aren't 
you  sorry?  " 

Tamar  thought  she  was.  Half  willingly,  half  re- 
luctantly, she  felt  herself  Joeing  caught  once  more  into 
the  atmosphere  of  these  people,  who  were  subordinating 


98  WHERE  YOUR  HEART  IS 

their  own  interests  and  concerns  to  the  task  of  minis- 
tering to  the  helpless  victims  of  the  war.  She  began  to 
be  a  little  ashamed  of  her  successful  transactions  at 
Alkmaar,  and  vaguely  uneasy  over  her  capacity  for 
sweeping  every  other  consideration  aside  when  it  came 
to  the  question  of  attaining  her  own  personal  aims 
and  attending  to  her  own  private  business.  For  the 
moment  those  beautiful  nefs  lost  some  of  their  value, 
and  the  emerald  some  of  its  grass-green  colour.  They 
were  destined,  of  course,  to  regain  very  quickly  their 
position  of  importance  in  her  mind,  but  they  were  cer- 
tainly relegated  to  the  background  as  the  evening 
passed.  For,  at  the  request  of  the  Rotterdam  Repre- 
sentative's wife,  some  of  the  appeals  for  help  from  the 
Communes  were  read  aloud.  Gertrude  Linton  read 
some,  Bramfield  others,  the  Representative  others. 
The  Belgian  delegue  began,  but  could  not  go  on.  It 
was  more  than  he  could  bear. 

Here  are  a  few  extracts  of  what  that  little  company 
heard  that  evening: 

"  We  beg  to  call  your  attention  to  our  poor  city. 
We  have  nothing  here,  and  are  most  in  need  of  food, 
beds,  clothing,  coals." —  Dendermonde. 

"  I  beg  you  to  come  to  the  help  of  our*  unhappy  and 
most  honest  population,  which  is  exhausted  and  de- 
prived of  all  resources,  as  the  result  of  the  exactions 
and  requisitions  of  the  Germans.  The  population  is 
principally  composed  of  fishermen,  workmen  and  small 
tradespeople,  on  whom  famine  and  the  blackest  misery 
await  if  help  is  not  brought  to  them." —  Hejst. 

"  The  population  of  my  community  comprises  5,000 
souls.  If  you  could  come  to  our  help,  you  would  save 


WHERE  YOUR  HEART  IS  99 

from  death  a  whole  population,  which  would  be  eter- 
nally grateful  to  you.  That  which  exists  no  longer  in 
my  town  is  flour,  coal  and  meat." 

"  Everything  is  missing.  We  are  in  want  of  pota- 
toes, peas,  beans,  grain,  flour,  meat,  bacon,  clothes, 
wooden  shoes.  No  petroleum  is  obtainable." 

"  The  communal  funds  are  finished,  and  if  you  come 
not  to  help  us,  God  knows  what  will  become  of  us." 

"  Our  communes  are  without  resources,  and  with 
them  the  benevolent  institutions.  We  have  finished  our 
short  report.  We  have  not  dramatized  it.  The  facts 
are  horrible  enough,  the  miseries  are  so  painful  that 
we  are  unable  to  describe  them  rightly." 

**  In  the  name  of  humanity  help  us." 

"Allow  me  to  ask  you  not  to  forget  the  Belgian 
Luxemburg.  This  province  is  one  of  the  first  invaded, 
and  is  without  any  communication  with  the  remainder 
of  the  country.  Be  kind  enough  to  think  of  this  prov- 
ince, which  met  with  so  much  misfortune,  like  the 
others." 

"  At  Andenne  and  Seilles  hundreds  of  houses  have 
been  shot  at  and  burned  down.  It  is  women,  it  is  chil- 
dren that  have  been  killed  or  made  prisoners.  At  Ta- 
mines,  at  Anvelais,  everywhere,  in  the  cities  and  in  the 
country,  they  accumulate  the  ruins  and  the  devastation." 

"  Permit  us  to  make  an  appeal  to  your  great  gener- 
osity in  favour  of  the  movement  for  the  supply  of  milk 
for  little  children  and  mothers  in  our  town.  We  have 
to  rely  on  condensed  milk,  which,  happily,  a  charitable 
soul  has  given  us  so  far.  Without  that  we  should  have 
to  send  the  poor  mothers  away,  and  we  have,  alas,  al- 
ready been  witnesses  of  more  than  one  heart-rending 
scene  of  that  nature.  Condensed  milk  is  therefore  very 
precious  to  us,  but  we. possess  none." 

"  Alas,  the  children  born  during  this  war,  of  moth- 


100      WHERE  YOUR  HEART  IS 

ers  enfeebled  by  worries  and  privations,  are  very  deli- 
cate." 

"  Flour  is  hardly  to  be  obtained.  The  stock  of  meat 
and  corn  in  Hamme  will  not  be  sufficient  till  the  end  of 
this  year.  This  is  a  great  ill  when  the  winter  is  coming 
and  is  running  with  speed  to  our  countries." 

"  Hamme's  poor  men  pray  their  friends  in  America 
to  allow  them  some  assistance  in  these  sorrowful  mo- 
ments." 

"  At  last  the  moment  has  come  to  show  how  the  Ger- 
mans have  acted  since  their  arrival  on  our  soil.  With- 
out any  reason  they  have  put  fire  to  thousands  of 
houses,  and  they  have  sacked  those  which  were  not  de- 
stroyed; to  put  the  crown  on  their  work,  in  many  dis- 
tricts they  have  shot  the  population  without  arms.  In 
other  places  they  have  taken  the  civilians  and  put  them 
in  prison,  with  the  consequences  that  all  cities  and  vil- 
lages are  at  present  deprived  of  masculine  population." 

But  although  flour,  rice,  potatoes,  peas,  beans,  wheat, 
sugar,  wooden  shoes,  boots,  clothes,  oil-cakes  for  the 
few  remaining  cattle,  milk  and  salt  were  all  asked  for, 
what  was  begged  for  most  of  all  was  bread  and  salt ;  and 
as  Tamar  listened  to  these  appeals,  so  touching  and 
dignified  in  their  simple,  bare  statement  of  facts,  she 
said  to  herself  more  than  once  that,  whether  she  liked 
it  or  resented  it,  the  truth  remained  that  the  words 
"  bread  "  and  "  salt  "  were  burnt  into  her  brain  for  the 
rest  of  her  life. 

'  Sleep  did  not  come  easily  to  her  that  night,  and  when 
at  last  she  sank  into  slumber,  she  was  torn  in  spirit 
by  conflicting  dreams  of  starving  people,  devastated 
villages,  fields  of  the  dead,  finely-chased  nefs,  pekel- 
haring,  a  superb  emerald,  the  worth  of  which  was  known 
only  to  her,  and  a  Dutch  Weduwe  who  believed,  poor 


WHERE  YOUR  HEART  IS      101 

soul,  that  she  was  the  one  who  had  driven  a  hard  bar- 
gain and  come  off  victor.  Tamar  woke  up  with  a 
chuckle. 

"  Ah,"  she  said  aloud,  "  that  woman  little  knows  that 
it's  I  who  have  scored.  For  I  cannot  be  mistaken 
about  that  stone.  Impossible.  Its  colour  was  perfect. 
And  it  had  an  imprisoned  beauty  —  a  flaming  splen- 
dour." 

The  next  morning  Tamar  learnt  that  Bramfield  and 
several  others  were  going  down  to  the  docks  to  visit 
another  relief-ship  which  had  arrived  from  Philadel- 
phia on  the  previous  day.  Bramfield  did  not  ask 
Tamar  to  accompany  them.  He  took  it  for  granted 
that  she  would  not  be  interested,  but  Captain  Smith 
took  it  for  granted  that  she  would  be  only  too  glad  to 
make  up  for  her  lost  opportunity,  and  said: 

"  Why,  I  guess  you're  coming,  aren't  you  ?  A  very 
interesting  sight.  And  as  the  good  lady  from  Gronin- 
gen  will  be  of  the  party,  I'll  need  a  large  convoy  to  pro- 
tect me  from  being  converted  to  teetotalism.  I  guess 
I'll  need  all  the  people  I  can  muster." 

"  I  f  hall  come,"  Tamar  said.  And  if  the  truth  had 
been  known,  she  was  glad  she  had  been  definitely  asked 
to  join  the  convoy. 

So  in  about  an  hour's  time,  Tamar  found  herself  in 
the  brisk  little  steam-launch  flying  the  American  flag, 
which  always  took  the  Commission  people  on  their  river 
errands.  Captain  Smith,  the  lady  from  Grb'ningen, 
the  Rotterdam  Representative  and  his  wife,  Bramfield, 
the  Dutch  shipping  agent,  the  Rhodes  scholar  and  two 
American  professors,  together  with  T.  Scott,  made  up 
the  party.  Gertrude  Linton  was  not  there.  She  had 


102      WHERE  YOUR  HEART  IS 

had  to  hurry  off  to  one  of  the  refugee  concentration 
camps  at  Bergen-op-Zoom,  and  when  Captain  Smith 
heard  this  tragic  news,  he  shook  his  head  sadly  and 
gave  himself  up  to  his  fate. 

"  She  was  a  convoy  in  herself,"  he  murmured.  "  A 
barrage  through  which  nothing  could  break." 

Off  they  started  to  the  ship.  On  their  way  they 
passed  in  and  out  of  the  different  harbours  and  along- 
side many  wharves,  and  saw  more  than  one  Commission 
vessel  with  the  Red  Cross  painted  on  its  sides,  and  sheds 
full  of  cases  of  food  and  clothing  from  all  parts  of 
America  and  Canada  being  sorted  out  for  dispatch  to 
several  destinations,  and  barges  already  laden  with 
their  cargoes  and  on  the  point  of  starting  for  Belgium. 
It  was  all  very  thrilling.  Tamar,  who  delighted  in 
shipping,  was  in  her  element.  She  noted  every  barge, 
every  tug,  every  interned  vessel,  every  kind  of  craft,  and 
gave  expression  to  her  enjoyment  in  a  way  that  amazed 
Bramfield.  He  had  never  known  her  so  pleasant,  so 
companionable,  and  so  talkative.  Nor  did  she  forget 
to  guard  the  skipper  at  a  dangerous  moment.  Always 
at  a  crisis,  T.  Scott  had  a  question  to  ask,  and  very 
neatly  she  achieved  her  aim.  She  was  pleased  when 
Captain  Smith  praised  her  and  said  she  was  almost  as 
clever  as  Miss  Linton. 

At  last  they  drew  up  near  the  ship,  scrambled  over 
two  barges  lying  alongside  and  climbed  on  to  the  deck. 
They  bent  over  into  the  hold,  riveted  by  the  sight  of 
the  vast  cargo  —  1,900  tons  of  rice,  flour,  salt,  beans, 
peas,  wheat  and  condensed  milk.  They  were  thrilled 
by  the  thought  that  this  was  only  one  of  the  many  ship- 
ments coming  into  port  day  by  day,  and  that  they 
would  continue  to  come  with  unfailing  faithfulness  from 


WHERE  YOUR  HEART  IS  103 

all  parts  of  America,  from  Philadelphia,  Boston,  New 
York,  San  Francisco,  Maryland,  Oregon,  Virginia, 
from  Canada,  Australia,  New  Zealand  and  Great  Brit- 
ain. 

Tamar  voiced  the  feelings  of  the  whole  company 
when,  to  her  own  surprise,  she  said  aloud : 

"  Cargoes  of  Mercy." 

And  then  Bramfield  asked  the  Rotterdam  Representa- 
tive to  tell  them  the  stbry  of  the  Commission  for  Relief. 
He  told  it.  And  as  they  listened,  their  imaginations 
were  stirred  by  the  idealistic  as  well  as  the  practical  as- 
pect of  this  vast  philanthropic  undertaking,  probably 
the  greatest  relief  movement  in  history.  A  handful 
of  business  men,  the  Chairman  of  the  Commission  at 
their  head,  had  made  up  their  minds  that  the  seven  mil- 
lion starving  Belgians  in  Belgium  must  be  fed  at  the 
cost  of  any  effort,  however  great,  and  that  no  difficul- 
ties, impossibilities  or  discouragements  were  to  be  al- 
lowed to  deter  them  from  the  realization  of  this  dream. 
He  did  not  speak  of  the  splendour  of  the  scheme,  the 
largeness  of  it,  the  underlying  pitifulness  and  tender- 
ness of  it.  He  did  not  boast  of  the  amazing  fulfilment 
of  it.  He  did  not  claim  that  it  would  make  a  proud 
record  for  the  United  States  for  all  ages.  He  just 
gave  them  a  simple  and  direct  narrative  of  facts  from 
which  it  was  easy  enough  to  build 'up  a  structure  of 
idealism.  He  said  it  was  the  work  for  a  great  neutral 
power  to  do.  And  they  did  it.  He  told  them  that  in 
the  first  cargo,  largely  printed  on  each  case  were  the 
words :  "  For  our  brave  Allies"  Needless  to  say, 
they  had  to  be  removed  by  the  officials  of  the  Commis- 
sion, whose  very  existence,  of  course,  depended  on  a 
strict  observance  of  neutrality.  He  spoke  of  some  of 


10*  WHERE  YOUR  HEART  IS 

the  difficulties :  difficulties  of  negotiating  with  the  Ger- 
man Government  for  permission,  complications  with  the 
Allied  Governments,  and  political  obstacles:  precau- 
tions that  the  food  supplies  should  be  used  for  Belgians 
only:  anxieties  and  hindrances  with  regard  to  trans- 
port, distribution  and  redistribution.  Were  the  trains 
in  Belgium  running?  Were  the  canals  open?  What 
was  the  condition  of  the  canals,  if  open?  Were  they 
going  to  be  allowed  to  use  them  for  their  fleet  of  barges 
lying  ready  to  ship  the  food  from  Rotterdam  to  the 
various  towns?  Well,  the  difficulties  and  impossibili- 
ties were  being  overcome.  All  was  going  well.  The 
machinery  was  being  perfected.  The  vessels  were  being 
multiplied.  Food  and  contributions  were  pouring  in. 
An  impending  doom  was  being  turned  into  a  victory  of 
peace. 

"  With  brains  like  those  of  our  splendid  Chairman," 
he  said,  "  and  devotion  like  that  of  our  good  friend,  the 
Captain  here,  and  pluck  like  that  of  our  official  messen- 
gers and  all  our  other  boys,  we  can  do  anything.  We 
can  meet  the  appeals  of  the  starving  towns  and  com- 
munes with  confidence." 

Back  to  the  minds  of  some  of  the  listeners  flashed 
the  remembrance  of  those  appeals  which  had  been  read 
to  them  the  previous  evening: 

"  Everything  is.  missing." 

"  In  the  name  of  humanity,  help  us." 

"  Come  to  the  help  of  our  unhappy  and  most  honest 
people." 

Seven  millions  starving  in  their  own  country,  crying 
out  for  bare  necessities  only  —  bread  and  salt.  Ruined 
homes,  wrecked  towns,  deserted  fields  of  the  dead,  devas- 
tated villages,  tragedies  of  outrage  and  brutality,  ruth- 


WHERE  YOUR  HEART  IS      105 

lessness  in  its  ghastliest  form,  cargoes  of  mercy  for 
these  suffering  millions  —  and  the  good  ship  on  which 
they  were  standing  symbolic  of  the  whole  wonderful 
scheme  of  merciful  intervention. 

They  could  scarcely  tear  themselves  away.  Tamar 
was  the  last  to  leave.  She  lingered  behind,  staring  into 
that  hold  with  its  treasury  of  food.  Bramfield  touched 
her  on  the  arm. 

"Are  you  not  coming,  Tamar?"  he  said  gently. 
"  We're  going  to  another  wharf." 

She  followed  him  silently.  He  knew  from  the  tense 
expression  on  her  face  that  she  was  tremendously 
stirred. 

They  finished  up  the  morning's  expedition  by  a  visit 
to  a  shed  to  see  the  Santa  Claus  presents  of  toys  and 
goodies  sent  on  the  Jason  by  American  children  to  Bel- 
gian little  ones.  Owing  to  the  military  regulations,  all 
these  gifts  had  to  be  forwarded  without  the  loving  little 
messages  of  goodwill  and  greeting  which  had  accom- 
panied them  from  America.  Some  of  the  pieces  of 
paper  were  still  scattered  on  the  floor.  Captain  Smith 
stooped  and  picked  one  up.  He  read  it  aloud.  It  ran 
thus: 

"  DEAR  LITTLE  BELGIAN  GIRL, 

"  I  send  you  a  doll  and  some  pea-nuts.  Also  some 
candy.  I  am  sorry  you  have  a  war  in  your  town.  We 
haven't  had  a  war  in  our  town  lately. 

"  From  your  loving, 

"  FLOSSIE  T.  PHILLIPS." 

"  Well,"  he  said,  "  you  wouldn't  think  that  document 
would  be  dangerous  to  the  safety  of  the  German  Em- 
pire." 


106      WHERE  YOUR  HEART  IS 

They  laughed,  and  helped  to  gather  up  the  inscrip- 
tions, which  were  entrusted  to  the  care  of  the  Repre- 
sentative's wife,  with  a  solemn  exhortation  to  make 
them  into  a  book  for  Belgian  children,  in  readiness  for  a 
better  time  to  come.  And  meantime  the  joy  gifts  were 
taking  their  own  joy  messages  to  the  little  Belgians  still 
in  Belgium  and  the  little  refugees  in  Holland. 

The  next  day  Bramfield  told  Tamar  in  an  off-hand 
manner  that  arrangements  could  be  made  for  her  re- 
turn to  England  that  same  evening  if  she  chose,  but 
that  he  would  be  remaining  for  a  few  days  longer.  He 
had  business  to  do  for  himself  in  Amsterdam,  and  sev- 
eral matters  to  attend  to  for  the  Commission  and  also 
for  the  Society  of  Friends  with  whom  he  was  also  as- 
sociated in  their  refugee  work. 

"  Probably  you  will  want  to  be  off  now  that  you  have 
secured  your  silver,  Tamar,"  he  said.  "  Of  course,  if 
you  cared  to  stay  on,  there's  a  lot  to  see.  We  are  go- 
ing, for  instance,  to  the  refugee  concentration  camps  at 
Rosendaal  and  Bergen-6p-Zoom,  and  also  to  one  or  two 
of  the  barges,  where  there  are  still  a  number  of  refugees 
left.  I  want  to  make  a  report  of  the  admirable  efforts 
the  Dutch  have  made  on  behalf  of  their  uninvited  guests. 
I  think  they  have  played  up  grandly,  and  have  been  fine 
and  generous." 

"  I  don't  mind  staying  on,"  Tamar  said,  with  a  half 
smile  which  had  a  shade  of  self-excuse  in  it.  "  I  don't 
mind  going  to  see  the  concentration  camps." 

Bramfield,  who  had  of  course  wanted  her  to  remain, 
laughed  secretly  at  the  success  of  his  ruse. 

"  She's  interested,  is  T.  Scott,"  he  thought.  "  And 
she  would  sooner  die  than  confess  it." 

But  he  was  too  wise  to  make  any  comment  on  her  de- 


WHERE  YOUR  HEART  IS      107 

cision,  or  to  let  any  sign  of  pleasure  or  surprise  be  seen 
on  his  face. 

The  next  day,  a  party  of  five  or  six  of  them,  in  two 
motors,  started  off  for  the  refugee  camps,  taking 
Rosendaal  first.  They  motored  over  the  peaceful  coun- 
try, which  looked  so  prim  and  self-contained,  and  they 
all  thought  and  spoke  with  a  shudder  of  pity  of  that 
sorrowful,  mourning  land  over  the  frontier,  but  a  few 
miles  away,  the  prey  of  a  cruel  fate  from  which,  so  far, 
Holland  had  been  mercifully  spared.  They  crossed 
the  river,  passed  through  Dordrecht  and  finally  arrived 
at  the  Hollandsch  Diep.  Here  they  had  to  wait  an 
hour  or  so  for  the  ferry.  Very  lovely  looked  the 
water,  lit  up  by  the  sunshine  of  a  beautiful,  crisp  morn- 
ing. They  drank  coffee  in  the  little  restaurant,  and 
strolled  about.  The  Representative's  wife,  always  so 
charming  and  companionable,  rather  wanted  on  this 
occasion  to  hug  the  stove ;  but  as  no  one  could  do  with- 
out her,  she  had  to  resign  herself  to  a  walk,  equipped 
or  not  equipped  for  that  American  tragedy. 

Bramfield  was  delighted  to  see  how  Tamar  was  en- 
joying the  outing.  And  indeed  she  was  congratulat- 
ing herself  the  whole  time  that  she  had  not  been  left 
out  of  the  scheme.  She  seemed  in  such  a  good  temper 
that  he  could  not  forbear  from  teasing  her  a  little.  On 
their  way  they  had  passed  through  several  prim  villages 
and  one  or  two  perniciously  fragrant  ones,  which,  he 
said,  had  reminded  him  of  nefs  and  emeralds ! 

"  I  don't  believe  it  is  an  emerald  of  any  value,"  he 
said,  with  a  twinkle  in  his  eye.  "  I  think  that  old  We- 
duwe  got  the  better  of  you,  Tamar.  It  will  be  a  joke 
if  she  did." 

"  You  rather  seem  to  wish  she  had,"  Tamar  said 


108  WHERE  YOUR  HEART  IS 

good-temperedly,  for  at  that  moment  the  value  of  the 
emerald  did  not  interest  her  in  the  least. 

"  Well,  it  would  be  fun  for  once,  I  must  own,"  he 
said.  "  Please  forgive  me." 

She  laughed  and  forgave  him.  When  she  was  amia- 
ble and  at  her  best,  she  rather  liked  Bramfield  to  tease 
her.  It  was  her  way  of  accepting  his  offer  of  a  mild 
flirtation. 

But  about  ten  minutes  later,  when  they  were  bending 
over  the  side  of  the  ferry  and  looking  at  the  fine,  long 
railway  bridge  which  spanned  the  Hollandsch  Diep,  she 
suddenly  said : 

"  I've  never  yet  been  mistaken  about  an  emerald, 
Bramfield.  Never." 

"  Well,  it's  time  you  were,"  he  said  cheerily.  "  Quite 
time." 

And  again  she  laughed. 

They  arrived  at  Rosendaal  and  went  immediately  to 
the  refugee  quarters  there,  which  had  been  established 
in  a  large  granary.  They  were  received  by  a  very  kind 
Dutch  Commandant,  who,  to  their  joy  and  surprise, 
had  Gertrude  Linton  with  him.  Tamar  was  especially 
pleased.  She  had  taken  a  fancy  to  her,  and  seemed 
at  once  to  become  electrified  and  stimulated  by  her  pres- 
ence. 

"  I'm  looking  for  a  lost  little  child,"  she  said,  waving 
a  paper.  "  The  grandparents  have  been  sent  off  to 
England  without  her,  and  are  in  despair.  Here  is  her 
description.  Let's  see  if  we  can  find  her  by  any  chance. 
It's  heartbreaking  when  the  little  ones  get  separated 
from  their  families.  It  does  happen  sometimes,  and  I 
can't  sleep  for  thinking  of  them." 


WHERE  YOUR  HEART  IS      109 

The  refugees  were  herded  together  in  a  large  dark 
room  on  the  ground  floor,  waiting  for  dinner.  It  was  a 
sorrowful  thing  to  see  all  those  homeless,  stunned  peo- 
ple, the  men  playing  cards  listlessly,  the  women  droop- 
ing despairingly,  the  little  children  with  no  toys,  the 
old,  frail  women  so  bewildered  and  weak  that  one  won- 
dered how  they  had  survived  the  loss  of  their  homes,  and 
the  horror  of  their  experiences.  Yet  they  brightened 
up  amazingly  when  Gertrude  Linton  passed  amongst 
them.  She  found  the  right  word,  the  right  greeting 
for  every  old  woman,  every  tiny  child;  and  Bramfield, 
too,  appeared  to  have  caught  some  of  her  magical  gift 
—  or  perhaps  to  have  had  it  all  along,  for  all  Tamar 
knew.  The  rest  of  the  party,  Tamar,  the  Representa- 
tive and  his  wife,  the  Canadian  journalist,  and  an  Amer- 
ican professor,  followed  humbly  in  the  footsteps  of  these 
leaders,  all  anxious  to  show  friendliness  and  sympathy. 
The  old  women  were  specially  pleased  to  be  spoken  to, 
and  one  of  them,  in  answer  to  Miss  Linton's  words  of 
concern  about  the  loss  of  her  home  and  the  trials  she 
had  been  through,  smiled  with  a  radiance  born  of  love, 
and  said: 

"  Ah,  but  we  have  the  little  ones  safe.  Nothing  mat- 
ters except  that." 

And  she  pointed  to  a  group  of  them  playing  near  the 
stove.  The  Commandant  looked  in  their  direction,  and 
turning  to  Tamar,  who  stood  near  him,  exclaimed  in  a 
voice  positively  charged  with  grief: 

"  And  imagine,  Madame,  we  have  no  toys  for  the  chil- 
dren —  not  a  single  one.  Yes,  one  —  this  old,  old  rag 
that  used  to  be  a  doll.  That's  not  enough,  is  it?  " 

"  No,  it  isn't  enough,"  Tamar  said,  struck  by  the 
man's  almost  passionate  earnestness. 


110      WHERE  YOUR  HEART  IS 

"  Wo  shall  send  you  toys  tomorrow,"  the  Representa- 
tive's wife  promised.  "  Toys  and  dolls  from  the  Santa 
Claus  ship.  I'll  see  about  them  myself." 

The  Commandant's  face  lit  up.  She  might  have  been 
promising  him  a  kingdom.  He  was  deeply  concerned 
for  the  welfare  of  his  charges.  He  told  them  how  he 
was  all  the  time  trying  to  make  improvements  in  the  ac- 
commodation for  the  men  and  women  upstairs,  and  ar- 
range for  separate  married  quarters,  but  that  at  pres- 
ent —  well,  all  one  could  say  was  that  this  was  at  least 
better  than  the  barges.  And  he  held  up  his  hands,  as 
if  in  horror  of  the  remembrance.  The  Canadian  jour- 
nalist, who  alone  of  the  party  had  seen  the  barges  with 
their  crowded  human  cargoes  in  the  holds,  without  heat, 
without  light,  without  air,  said : 

"  Herr  Commandant,  this  is  a  Paradise  compared 
with  the  barges.  I  shall  never  think  of  them  without 
a  shudder.  If  one  needed  to  know  something  of  Bel- 
gium's first  agony,  the  barges  alone  would  have  taught 
one." 

"  We  have  only  just  begun  to  be  able  to  handle  the 
problem  of  the  refugees,"  the  Commandant  explained. 
"  It  has  been  overwhelming.  Tens  of  thousands  have 
swept  like  an  avalanche  over  our  borders.  But  we  are 
beginning  to  surmount  the  difficulties.  If  you  are  go- 
ing on  to  Bergen-op-Zoom,  you  will  see  a  very  different 
condition  of  things  there." 

"  But  never  a  Commandant  who  will  care  so  much," 
they  all  thought. 

His  parting  injunction  was  about  the  toys  and  dolls. 

"  Don't  forget  the  toys  and  dolls  to  make  the  little 
children  happy,"  he  said. 


WHERE  YOUR  HEART  IS      111 

They  motored  straight  away  to  Bergen-op-Zoom, 
passing  over  the  very  road  where  the  avalanche  of  refu- 
gees had,  in  their  first  horror,  broken  over  the  frontier 
on  the  day  of  the  bombardment  of  Antwerp.  For  sixty 
hours  the  long  procession  of  humanity  crushed  without 
a  break  from  Antwerp  to  Rosendaal,  and  on  the  way 
many  women  went  through  the  birth-agony,  and  some 
died  by  the  roadside.  The  Canadian  journalist,  who 
had  been  present  at  Rosendaal,  described  the  scene  in  a 
few  graphic  words,  which  touched  the  imagination  of  his 
hearers.  They  saw  it  with  their  mind's  eye. 

"  A  seething  mass  of  people  and  possessions,"  he  said, 
"  old  and  young,  strong  and  frail,  the  babe  in  arms,  the 
child  clinging  to  its  mother's  skirts,  the  old,  blind 
woman  led  by  a  tiny  boy,  the  lame  limping  on  crutches 
and  canes,  with  no  one  to  carry  their  load  of  bundles  — 
their  only  worldly  goods.  Women  in  remnants  of  lux- 
ury, girls  with  pet  dogs  under  their  arms,  family  groups 
huddled  together,  driven  onwards  in  the  hurrying  hu- 
man stream,  pitiful  possessions  borne  painfully  along, 
bedding  and  pots  and  pans,  and  here  and  there  a  child's 
plaything  too  dear  to  leave  behind,  terror  and  despair 
and  bewilderment  on  every  face  —  and  the  goal  of  the 
fugitives  anywhere,  anywhere  to  be  safe  from  German 
fury,  German  ruthlessness,  German  *  Kultur.' ' 

At  Bergen-op-Zoom  the  refugee  quarters  had  become 
a  city  of  tents,  situate  on  high  ground  carefully  chosen 
by  the  military  authorities  for  this  reason.  The  sight 
of  the  thousands  of  tents  was  very  picturesque.  Some 
of  the  tents  were  nicely  kept,  and  were  surrounded  by 
some  attempt  at  a  sand  garden.  Most  of  them  had  a 
fire,  and  round  this  the  family  gathered  gratefully, 


112      WHERE  YOUR  HEART  IS 

thankful  to  have  their  own  separate  little  establishment. 
The  family  refugee  dog  was  conspicuous  everywhere, 
keeping  careful  watch  and  barking  at  all  intruders  who 
dared  to  invade  the  privacy  of  the  home.  The  tents 
were  in  general  the  abode  of  the  better  class,  who  chose 
them  in  preference  to  the  barracks  which  were  arranged 
in  compartments  for  several  families,  all  partitioned  off 
from  each  other,  and  all  steaming  hot,  close  and  stuffy. 
But  the  class  of  refugees  who  inhabited  them,  seemed  to 
like  this  condition  of  life  and  would  never  have  been 
persuaded  to  live  in  tents.  These  were  called  the  sec- 
ond grade  of  refugee. 

The  third  grade  were  housed  chiefly  by  their  own  de- 
sire in  one  huge  tent,  like  a  large  circus  tent,  with  indi- 
vidual little  households,  it  is  true,  but  not  screened  off  — 
a  communal  life,  in  fact.  They  had  their  own  burgo- 
master. This  tent  presented  a  most  curious  and  inter- 
esting sight,  with  many  separate  fires  and  lights  and 
groups  of  people,  and  pathways  arranged  as  if  in  a  toy 
village  on  a  large  scale.  The  whole  effect  was  exactly 
like  a  scene  from  a  play.  The  people  here  looked  hap- 
pier than  anywhere,  and  the  children  were  playing  about 
gaily.  One  even  heard  laughter. 

The  fourth  grade  were  lodged  in  caravans,  and  con- 
sisted of  the  very  low  and  criminal  class ;  and  these  were 
screened  off  from  the  rest  of  the  camp  by  barbed  wire, 
and  watched  over  by  sentries.  A  school  was  in  prog- 
ress of  being  erected;  and  the  Dutch  Government  was 
adding  a  church  and  a  library  for  this  settlement. 
Baths  had  already  been  built,  and  there  was  a  medical 
department  with  a  special  depot,  where  nursing  mothers 
went  to  get  an  order  for  extra  milk  and  white  bread. 
The  arrangements  here  were  indeed  a  far  cry  from  the 


WHERE  YOUR  HEART  IS      113 

desolate  Rosendaal  granary,  and  were  a  sure  sign  to 
the  visitors  of  the  fine  purpose  and  goodwill  of  the  gen- 
erous Dutch,  and  of  their  determination  to  handle  their 
most  difficult  refugee  problem  with  all  possible  means, 
both  practical  and  benevolent,  in  their  power. 

The  Commandant  said  that  the  tragedy  of  the  pres- 
ent situation  was  the  unemployment  existing  among  the 
exiles,  which  would  inevitably  lead  to  rapid  demoraliza- 
tion if  not  dealt  with.  He  pointed  to  the  groups  of  men 
sitting  around,  either  playing  cards  or  doing  nothing; 
and  indeed  it  was  a  pitiful  sight  to  see  able-bodied  peo- 
ple, industrious  by  nature,  with  no  duties  to  perform 
and  no  claims  to  which  they  had  to  answer. 

"  We  shall  start  work-rooms  as  soon  as  we  are  able," 
he  said.  "  At  the  moment,  though,  all  we  can  do  is  to 
house  and  feed  them." 

Gertrude  Linton  whispered  to  Tamar : 

"  I  should  like  to  start  a  work-room  for  the  women. 
What  do  you  say  to  wool  carpets  and  rugs?  I  shall 
buy  up  all  the  wool  I  can  whilst  it's  cheap,  and  get  the 
Friends  who  are  helping  the  Dutch  to  suggest  this  in- 
dustry to  the  authorities  when  the  time  comes." 

The  Commandant  was  then  called  away ;  but  he  left 
the  party  in  charge  of  a  young  officer,  and  told  him  to 
help  Miss  Linton  in  her  search  for  the  missing  young 
girl,  Marie  Louise  Gerardin,  Ruelle  Josephine,  Malines. 
He  did  not  think  there  was  any  young  girl  amongst  the 
people  who  had  lost  their  memory  and  did  not  know 
where  they  came  from.  They  were  older  women  and  a 
few  men.  Still,  she  had  better  look  round  and  then  she 
would  be  satisfied. 

He  seemed  to  part  from  them  all  with  regret,  and  in- 
vited them  to  visit  him  again  and  see  the  improvements 


114      WHERE  YOUR  HEART  IS 

which  he  hoped  to  make.  The  young  officer  took  the 
piece  of  paper  and  read  the  description  of  Marie  Louise 
Gerardin  aloud : 

**  Marie  Louise  Gerardin,  age  about  fifteen,  slight  of 
build,  with  blue  eyes,  long  eyelashes,  fair,  beautiful  and 
of  a  merry  disposition." 

They  wandered  with  him  amongst  the  refugees,  keep- 
ing their  eyes  open  for  any  one  who  answered  to  that 
description ;  and  Miss  Linton  made  inquiries  of  some  of 
the  families  in  a  language  which  the  Representative's 
wife  called  her  "  patent  patois,"  and  which  was  an 
amazing  mixture  of  Dutch,  German,  Flemish  and  Ger- 
trude Linton.  But  it  evidently  "  did  the  trick,"  and 
that  was  the  main  point !  Every  one  seemed  to  under- 
stand her,  but  no  one  could  give  her  any  information 
about  the  missing  girl.  Then  the  officer  took  them  to 
a  tent  where  two  or  three  of  the  refugees  who  had  lost 
their  memory  were  sitting  huddled  together,  known  by 
no  one,  claimed  by  no  one,  dazed,  forlorn,  despairing. 
But,  as  the  Commandant  had  said,  there  was  no  young 
girl  amongst  them.  They  were  pathetic  figures,  haunt- 
ing remembrances.  And  the  visitors  turned  away  with 
heavy  hearts. 

'*  There  are  still  one  or  two  railway  sheds  at  Flushing 
full  of  refugees  who  have  not  yet  been  drafted  off  to  the 
settlements,  and  also  two  or  three  barges,"  the  officer 
told  them.  "  It  would  be  worth  while  to  look  there. 
But  we'll  do  our  best  to  search  this  camp  thoroughly. 
It  will  probably  be  my  duty,  and  I  will  carry  it  out  most 
willingly,  I  promise  you." 

He  conducted  them  finally  to  their  cars,  talking  to 
them  in  the  same  admirable  English  as  the  Command- 
ant's and  evidently  as  pleased  as  his  superior  officer  to 


WHERE  YOUR  HEART  IS      115 

have  the  chance  of  airing  his  ability.  They  were  all  im- 
pressed with  the  kindness  and  the  pitifulness  of  the  of- 
ficers. The  tragic  fate  of  Belgium  seemed  to  have 
touched  them  very  deeply,  probably  all  the  more  so 
because  they  realized  that  only  a  bare  chance  had  saved 
their  own  country  from  a  similar  misfortune. 

The  experiences  of  the  party  were  by  no  means  over 
yet.  They  tried  to  get  lunch  at  a  hotel  at  Bergen-op- 
Zoom,  but  were  rudely  refused  by  the  proprietor,  who 
was  either  a  German  or  a  pro-German.  At  the  second 
hotel  they  had  better  luck,  and  had,  moreover,  the  in- 
terest of  meeting  two  Belgian  ladies  who  had  on  the  pre- 
vious evening  escaped  over  the  frontier  in  the  cart  of 
a  peasant,  to  whom  they  gave  a  large  sum  of  money  for 
hiding  them  amongst  his  sacks  of  vegetables.  But  he 
and  they  had  run  the  risk  of  being  shot,  the  fate  of 
scores  upon  scores  of  fugitives.  One  of  these  ladies 
had  a  villa,  where  she  had  nursed  many  of  the  English 
soldiers.  She  spoke  with  much  feeling  of  their  chivalry 
and  their  gratitude. 

When  Bramfield  heard  that  they  were  making  for 
England,  he  at  once  offered  to  take  care  of  them  and 
carry  out  the  arrangements  for  their  passage.  The 
Representative  and  his  wife  pressed  them  to  motor  back 
with  them  to  Rotterdam,  and  wait  there  rather  than  at 
a  place  so  near  the  frontier  as  Bergen-op-Zoom.  They 
accepted  eagerly,  but  broke  down  suddenly  and  wept 
at  finding  friends  thus  unexpectedly  raised  up  for  them. 
They  were  both  scared  and  unnerved  by  the  dangers 
through  which  they  had  passed  and  the  awful  sights 
they  had  seen.  But  the  older  lady  looked  half  dead  with 
fright,  and  yet  was  in  a  state  of  great  agitation  which 
her  friend  tried  to  control.  Very  charming  and  touch- 


116      WHERE  YOUR  HEART  IS 

ing  was  the  way  in  which  they  expressed  their  gratitude 
to  each  member  of  the  little  company. 

"  Nothing  to  thank  for,"  said  the  Representative  in 
marvellously  abominable  French  which  cheered  every 
one,  including  the  two  fugitives.  "  The  war  makes  com- 
rades of  us  all  at  a  moment's  notice.  That  is  as  it 
should  be." 

"  We  have  money  for  our  passage  to  England,"  the 
older  lady  said,  suddenly  clutching  at  her  bodice  and  in 
her  excitement  tearing  out  a  small  bag  which  fell  on  the 
table.  The  string  broke,  and  very  beautiful  jewels  were 
strewn  about  —  many  gorgeous  rings  and  earrings  and 
brooches,  and  amongst  them  a  costly  pearl  ring. 

A  low  cry  escaped  Tamar.  The  unexpected  vision 
excited  her  almost  beyond  her  control.  She  forgot 
everything  on  earth  except  that  there,  on  the  other  side 
of  the  table,  lay  some  most  attractive  precious  stones 
in  settings  of  finest  workmanship.  In  another  moment, 
she  would  undoubtedly  have  clutched  hold  of  them,  but 
that  an  irresistible  prompting  impelled  her  to  look  in 
Bramfield's  direction.  He  was  staring  at  her  with 
horror  on  his  face.  He  had  turned  deadly  pale.  He 
fixed  her  with  his  eyes.  He  paralysed  her.  He  saved 
her.  Tamar  sat  motionless,  ashamed  —  the  temptation 
over.  No  one  except  he  and  she  knew  of  this  drama  of 
briefest  duration,  but  of  burning  intensity. 

"  Ah,  plenty  of  money  there,"  said  the  Representative 
with  a  laugh.  "  But  hide  them  all  away  quickly.  See 
here,  shove  them  in  my  wife's  satchel,  and  stick  it  in 
your  corsage.  That's  right.  Good  God !  you  might 
havd  been  murdered  for  them  by  the  very  people  who 
effected  your  escape.  It  makes  one  shudder  to  think  of 
it.  And  now  let's  be  off." 


WHERE  YOUR  HEART  IS      117 

They  returned  by  the  same  route,  over  the  same  road 
traversed  by  those  thousands  of  refugees  in  their  meas- 
ureless misery  —  a  trail  made  sacred  by  human  suffer- 
ing. They  were  all  silent,  tired  out  and  haunted  and 
held  by  memories  of  what  they  had  seen  that  day.  The 
car  containing  the  Representative  and  his  wife,  the  two 
Belgian  ladies  and  Bramfield,  had  preceded  the  second 
one  in  which  the  remainder  of  the  party  travelled  to 
Rotterdam.  The  second  car  arrived  about  fifteen  min- 
utes later.  Bramfield  was  waiting  at  the  entrance  of 
their  hotel.  He  stood  with  head  uncovered. 

"  Friends,"  he  said  in  a  low  voice,  "  I  have  something 
dreadful  to  tell  you.  We  found  one  of  the  Belgian  la- 
dies had  died  in  the  car.  We  thought  she  was  sleeping 
only.  It  was  the  lady  with  the  jewels." 

Alone  in  her  room  that  night,  Tamar  sat  watching 
the  lights  in  the  harbours.  Sleep  would  not  come  to 
her.  Shame  would  not  leave  her. 

A  cry  was  wrung  from  her  very  soul. 

"  Woe  is  me,  woe  is  me  that  I  am  what  I  am,"  she 
murmured. 


CHAPTER  VIII 

IT  is  difficult  to  know  what  they  would  all  have  done 
without  the  gracious  presence  of  the  Representa- 
tive's wife  and  the  exhilarating  influence  of  Gertrude 
Linton  on  the  following  day.  The  tragedy  of  the  Bel- 
gian lady's  death  culminating  on  all  the  heartrending 
scenes  they  had  witnessed,  took  an  immense  effect  on 
every  one  of  them.  Miss  Linton  was  longing  to  renew 
her  search  for  Marie  Louise,  but  instead,  she  set  on  foot 
a  wool  campaign,  and  demanded  that  every  one  should 
help  her  by  sallying  forth  separately  and  buying  as 
much  wool  as  could  be  secured  whilst  the  price  was  still 
low.  She  said  the  carpet  and  rug  scheme  had  got  on 
her  brain,  and  she  would  not  rest  until  she  had  carried 
it  out.  No  one  was  let  off;  and  the  friendly  rivalry 
thus  established  certainly  raised  the  spirits  of  the  com- 
munity. And  the  Representative's  wife  reminded  them 
that  they  had  promised  to  pack  and  send  off  toys  and 
dolls  to  the  Rosendaal  children,  and  must  not  fail  to 
keep  their  word.  So  she  requisitioned  the  little  steam 
launch  flying  the  American  flag,  and  commandeered 
their  services  for  the  work;  and  they  spent  a  busy 
morning  at  the  wharf.  They  came  back  looking  differ- 
ent people  after  their  healing  task  of  ministering  to  the 
toyless  little  children  whom  the  Commandant  loved. 
Tamar,  whose  grim  sadness  of  heart  no  one  guessed,  was 
secretly  comforted  too.  For,  as  the  Canadian  jour- 
nalist said,  the  most  hardened  person  in  the  world,  hav- 
ing seen  the  sad  scenes  at  Rosendaal  and  elsewhere, 

118 


WHERE  YOUR  HEART  IS      119 

could  not  fail  to  consider  himself  fortunate  indeed  to 
have  the  chance  of  bringing  a  smile  to  the  face  of  even 
one  little  one.  Tamar  could  not  have  put  that  thought 
into  words,  but  it  was  borne  to  her  subconsciously, 
whilst  to  the  Representative's  wife  it  came  with  a  deep 
and  tender  realization. 

In  the  afternoon  it  was  arranged  that  they  were  all 
to  meet  for  tea  at  the  offices  of  the  Commission,  in  an 
old  and  spacious  house  in  the  Haringvliet,  where  at  one 
time  the  herring  fleet  used  to  land.  Here  they  found 
one  or  two  deputies  from  Namur,  Lierre  and  Liege, 
some  members  of  the  Belgian  Comite  de  Secours  and  also 
of  the  Dutch  Committee,  and  the  Dutch  Shipping  Agent 
who  had  looked  in  to  bring  the  good  news  of  a  wireless 
at  the  Lizard  from  a  relief  ship  well  on  its  way.  There 
were  also  the  American  military  attache  at  The  Hague, 
a  Belgian  artist,  who  was  going  back  to  Malines  to  try 
and  rescue  his  pictures  and  was  never  heard  of  again, 
and  another  Rhodes  scholar  attached  to  the  Commis- 
sion, who  had  been  stationed  at  one  of  the  depots  in  Bel- 
gium to  receive  the  barges  and  check  the  cargoes  as  they 
passed  through  that  particular  outpost  on  their  way  to 
their  several  destinations.  There  was  also  'an  English 
authoress  who  was  engaged  in  writing  an  appeal  for 
funds  for  the  Commission,  and  who  was  sitting  at  table 
looking  fairly  distraught,  and  surrounded  by  weekly 
lists  of  cargoes  arranged,  cargoes  dispatched,  cargoes 
arrived,  photographs  of  vessels,  letters  of  appeal  for 
help  from  the  Burgomasters  and  priests  of  the  starving 
communes,  and  whole  portfolios  of  reports  and  docu- 
meuts,  including  copies  of  the  German  undertaking  that 
the  Relief  food  should  not  be  requisitioned. 

"  Such  a  mass  of  material,  I  don't  know  where  to 


120      WHERE  YOUR  HEART  IS 

turn,"  she  said  to  Tamar,  who  was  standing  by  her, 
looking  at  the  photographs. 

"  Go  down  and  see  one  of  the  vessels  first,"  Tamar 
suggested.  "  That  will  help  you  more  than  anything. 
Even  I  felt  I  could  write  an  appeal  when  I  saw  those  car- 
goes of  mercy." 

"  Cargoes  of  mercy ! "  exclaimed  the  authoress. 
"  You've  given  me  the  title,  and  given  me  the  idea. 
I'll  take  your  advice  and  then  I  shall  be  able  to  go 
ahead." 

Tamar  looked  pleased. 

"  Well,  I've  always  understood  that  statistics  killed 
imagination,"  she  said. 

Bramfield  was  pleased.  He  was  always  tenderly  glad 
when  Tamar  scored  a  point. 

"  Why,  Tamar,"  he  said  with  a  smile,  "  it  appears 
there's  no  end  to  your  resources.  You  found  out  some- 
thing valuable  about  a  spy's  appearance,  and  now  you 
invent  a  good  title  —  a  remarkable  performance  that." 

"  And  she  ferreted  out  the  largest  quantity  of  wool 
this  morning  at  an  unheard-of  bargain,"  said  Gertrude 
Linton,  laughing.  "  A  very  clever  confederate,  isn't 
she,  Mr.  Bramfield?  " 

"  Yes,  especially  about  bargains,"  he  answered  with  a 
twinkle  in  his  eye.  "  I'd  back  her  there  against  any 
one  in  the  world  —  except  perhaps  a  certain  old  We- 
duwe,  near  Alkmaar,  eh,  T.  Scott  ?  " 

"  That  remains  to  be  proved,  Bramfield,"  she  an- 
swered, a  slight  smile  passing  over  her  face. 

They  walked  back  to  the  hotel  together.  Neither  of 
them  had  made  the  slightest  allusion  to  the  silent  battle 
which  had  taken  place  between  them  at  Bergen-op- 
Zoom.  Yet  Tamar  was  longing  to  confess  her  shame 


WHERE  YOUR  HEART  IS      121 

and  to  thank  him  for  the  check  he  had  put  on  her.  But 
pride  forbade  her.  And  chivalry  restrained  Bramfield 
from  showing  any  sign  of  sympathy  with  her  shame  and 
suffering.  For  he  knew  that  she  had  suffered.  He 
knew  well  that  set,  stubborn  look  on  her  face,  that  strain 
in  her  eyes,  and  a  curious,  almost  imperceptible,  shrink- 
ing together  of  her  shoulders  as  though  she  were  hiding 
something  in  her  breast.  He  longed  to  say  one  word 
to  comfort  her,  but  could  not,  dared  not.  So  in  tense 
silence  they  passed  over  the  bridge  amidst  a  forest  of 
masts  and  alongside  the  quay,  until  they  nearly  reached 
their  hotel.  And  then  suddenly  he  was  able  to  find 
words  to  convey  comfort,  indirectly,  surreptitiously, 
and  yet  definitely. 

"  Tamar,"  he  said,  "  you  won't  mind  delaying  our 
departure  for  a  day  or  two?  There  are  things  to  be 
seen  to  about  that  poor  lady's  affairs,  and  of  course 
there  is  the  funeral  which  her  friend  will  attend.  And 
as  we  could  not  dream  of  letting  her  go  to  England 
alone  in  her  distress,  we  must  remain  for  a  while.  I 
reckon  on  your  help  in  this  sad  business.  You  will  help 
me  to  look  after  her,  won't  you?  " 

Tamar  did  not  answer  at  the  time,  could  not  answer. 
If  she  could  have  framed  a  reply  at  all,  she  would  have 
said :  "  Bramfield,  I  know,  and  I  understand  and  I 
thank  you."  But  what  she  did  say,  when  at  last  she 
found  utterance,  was : 

"  I  will  do  what  I  can,  Bramfield." 

He  nodded.     She  added : 

"  I  have  promised  to  go  with  Miss  Linton  on  her 
search  for  that  missing  girl." 

"  You  like  Gertrude  Linton?  "  he  said.  "  I  thought 
you  would." 


122      WHERE  YOUR  HEART  IS 

"  Yes,  I  like  her,"  she  answered  — "  and  I  envy  her. 
She  at  least  would  never  clutch  at  jewels." 

"  Hush,  hush,  my  dear  friend,"  he  said  gently. 
"  You  must  let  that  pain  pass.  You  must  indeed." 

But  ev«n  in  the  darkness  of  the  night  he  knew  that  she 
shook  her  head. 

She  went  with  Gertrude  Linton  on  the  search  for 
Marie  Louise  the  next  day.  They  began  by  visiting  the 
one  remaining  barge  in  Rotterdam,  where  there  were 
still  a  few  refugees,  and  then  a  large  building,  a  sort 
of  hotel  for  emigrants,  which  was  now  being  used  to 
house  a  few  hundred  of  the  fugitives.  They  found  no 
one  to  answer  to  Marie  Louise's  name  or  description; 
nor  did  any  of  the  clues  they  had  to  her  identity  and 
surroundings  encourage  them  to  believe  that  they  would 
run  her  to  earth  anywhere.  Her  name  was  Marie  Lou- 
ise Gerardin,  her  age  about  fifteen ;  she  was  said  to  be 
fair,  slight  of  build,  with  blue  eyes,  long  eyelashed, 
merry  by  disposition;  her  address  was  8,  Ruelle  Jo- 
sephine, Malines ;  her  sister's  name  was  Amarice,  aged 
six  years,  and  very  dear  to  her,  and  this  little  one  was 
safe  in  England  with  the  grandparents  who  were  living 
in  Dulwich,  in  the  house  of  one  of  Miss  Linton's  cousins. 
It  was  from  them  that  she  had  received  these  few  de- 
tails, together  with  a  letter  begging  her  to  try  and  find 
the  elder  girl.  Her  grandparents  were  fretting  their 
hearts  away,  and,  ran  the  letter,  "  We  hear  the  old  lady 
crying  in  the  night:  *  Marie  —  Marie,  chere  petite 
Marie.'  It  is  not  to  be  stood.  Try  all  you  can  to  find 
her."  There  was  one  other  little  detail  added,  which 
seemed  insignificant  enough.  The  little  sister  was  cry- 
ing always  for  her  faithful  playmate,  Fido,  an  old 


WHERE  YOUR  HEART  IS      123 

brown  dog,  good-hearted  and  long-suffering,  the  true 
friend  of  the  family. 

This  information  was  scant  enough,  in  all  truth ;  but 
Gertrude  Linton  was  blessed  with  a  temperament  which 
could  never  be  easily  daunted.  She  was  always  ready 
to  start  off  in  a  fresh  direction  on  the  slightest  encour- 
agement, and  on  the  barest  chance  of  success.  Tamar, 
entirely  unaccustomed  to  exhibitions  of  such  spontane- 
ousness  and  indifference  to  fatigue  or  discomfort  or 
distance,  considered  her  companion  to  be  hopelessly 
mad.  But  she  did  not  attempt  to  dishearten  her.  She 
merely  wondered  in  an  amused,  amazed  sort  of  way, 
what  they  were  going  to  do  next,  and  even  laughed  when 
Miss  Linton  said  gaily: 

"  Well,  that  was  a  distinct  failure.  But  never  mind. 
Perhaps  our  next  venture  will  be  a  success." 

Their  next  venture  proved  also  to  be  a  failure. 
They  went  to  a  little  village  not  far  from  Rosendaal, 
where,  so  they  learnt  from  the  Dutch  Committee,  there 
was  a  Belgian  woman  from  Aerschot,  whose  husband 
had  been  shot  by  the  Germans  on  the  day  when  they 
entered  that  peaceful  village.  She  had  flown  with  her 
children,  and  on  her  way  had  found  and  protected  a 
young  girl  claimed  by  no  one.  Perhaps  this  child  was 
Marie  Louise.  After  a  dreary  walk  along  a  desolate 
side  canal,  they  came  to  the  house  and  knocked  at  the 
door.  A  woman,  after  some  delay,  opened  it.  She 
was  weeping  bitterly.  She  told  them  her  little  baby 
had  died.  She  had  just  folded  its  little  hands,  and 
lighted  the  candle.  "  Mesdames  would  like  to  come  up 
and  see  the  little  one?  "  she  said. 

They  went  into  the  tiny  room,  almost  a  cupboard, 
made  sacred  and  stately  by  the  presence  of  death. 


124      WHERE  YOUR  HEART  IS 

The  little  dead  face  wore  an  expression  of  grave,  sad 
wisdom,  which  had  soared  and  bade  others  soar  beyond 
the  happenings  of  this  life. 

Then  the  mother  led  them  away  to  the  kitchen  where 
the  other  children  were  sitting,  frightened  and  quelled 
as  children  often  are  by  death.  But  in  a  moment  Ger- 
trude Linton  had  them  round  her,  and  little  tongues 
began  to  talk  and  little  hands  to  make  free  with  her 
satchel.  And  the  Belgian  said  through  her  tears : 

"  It  is  good  that  Madame  has  come  to  . cheer  them. 
Madame  has  the  right  way  with  children." 

But  she  had  no  stranger  amongst  her  flock;  and  so 
once  again  the  j  ourney  had  been  in  vain  as  far  as  Marie 
Louise  was  concerned.  Still  Miss  Linton  would  not 
give  up  the  search;  and  she  and  Tamar  went  off  to 
Flushing,  where  they  visited  two  railway  sheds  full  of 
refugees  —  the  most  awful  places  they  had  yet  seen. 
They  were  almost  thankful  not  to  have  found  Marie 
Louise  in  those  vile  surroundings.  Then  they  looked 
for  her  in  two  barges,  always  in  vain;  and  having,  as 
they  believed,  come  to  the  end  of  all  their  chances,  were 
prepared  to  relax  their  efforts,  when  some  one  told 
them  that  there  was  yet  another  barge  a  little  farther 
down,  past  the  railway  sheds.  One  of  the  head  officials, 
who  knew  Miss  Linton  well,  conducted  them  to  the  spot, 
helped  them  to  clamber  over  the  side  of  the  wharf  on  to 
another  barge,  and  thence  on  to  the  last  remaining 
barge,  said  to  contain  a  few  refugees  who  had  not  been 
"  collected." 

"  There  were  a  few  yesterday,"  he  said.  "  But  they 
may  have  been  cleared  off  by  now.  The  authorities  are 
sending  them  off  as  soon  as  possible  to  better  quarters, 
but  it  takes  time,  with  so  many  thousands  to  see  after." 


WHERE  YOUR  HEART  IS      125 

They  stumbled  down  the  ladder  which  led  to  the  hold, 
and  had  nearly  reached  the  bottom  step  when  their 
guide  said: 

"  I  believe  this  was  where  they  left  the  poor  little 
creature  who  had  gone  mad.  Perhaps  I'd  better  go 
first  and  make  sure  that  it  is  all  right.  I'd  forgotten 
that." 

But  they  did  not  heed  him,  and  landed  in  the  hold, 
which  was  in  darkness  save  for  the  light  shed  by  a  small 
kerosene  lamp  on  a  stool.  They  could  see  about  four 
or  five  people,  three  men  and  two  women,  huddled  round 
it.  These  looked  up,  but  made  no  sign  of  greeting  to 
the  visitors.  The  sound  of  a  low  moaning  was  heard 
at  the  further  end.  Their  guide  raised  the  lamp  and 
directed  it  on  the  figure  of  a  young,  frail  girl,  swaying 
to  and  fro  on  a  broken  chair,  a  piteous  object,  a  de- 
plorable wreck  of  youth  and  loveliness. 

Gertrude  Linton  bent  over  her. 

"  Marie  Louise,"  she  said.  "  Marie  Louise  Gerar- 
din." 

There  was  no  sign  of  intelligence.  The  girl  continued 
to  moan  and  to  rock  herself  backwards  and  forwards. 
Miss  Linton  tried  her  with  the  name  of  the  town  and 
the  street  where  Marie  Louise  had  lived.  She  tried  her 
with  the  words  grand'mere,  grandpere.  All  in  vain. 
She  tried  her  with  the  name  of  Marie's  little  sister, 
Amarice.  Was  there  an  almost  imperceptible  pause  in 
the  moaning,  a  faint  trace  of  interest  on  that  blank 
countenance?  They  held  their  breath  in  suspense. 
The  moaning  continued.  The  flicker  went  out. 

"  Fair,  young,  beautiful,  with  blue  eyes,  long  eye- 
lashes, merry,"  said  the  description. 

Could  she  once  have  answered  to  it?     How  were  they 


126      WHERE  YOUR  HEART  IS 

to  know?  They  looked  at  each  other  as  if  searching 
for  counsel,  torn  with  pity,  distressed  with  doubt. 

Suddenly  an  inspiration  came  to  Tamar. 

"  You  have  tried  everything,"  she  said  in  a  whisper. 
"  But  wasn't  there  something  about  a  dog?  " 

"  Yes,  yes,  of  course  there  was,"  Gertrude  Linton  ex- 
claimed. "  Fido,  the  dog,  the  old  brown  dog  whom  the 
sister  was  always  crying  for.  I'll  try  her  with  that." 

And  she  walked  a  few  steps  away,  and  then  began 
calling : 

"  Fido,  Fido,  Fido,  come  here." 

There  was  no  sign. 

Again  she  called: 

"  Fido,  Fido." 

The  anxious  watchers  in  that  dark,  cold,  desolate 
hold  saw  a  slight  quiver  pass  over  the  girl's  face.  She 
ceased  her  piteous  moaning,  ceased  the  restless  rocking 
to  and  fro.  She  seemed  as  if  she  were  going  to  rise, 
but  could  not. 

And  again  Miss  Linton  called: 

"  Fido,  Fido,  come  here,  naughty  little  dog.  Ama- 
rice  wants  you,  Fido,  Fido." 

The  girl  sprang  up. 

"  Fido,  Fido,"  she  cried.     "  Amarice  wants  you." 

She  burst  into  passionate  tears. 

The  search  was  over. 


CHAPTER  IX 

IT  was  characteristic  of  Gertrude  Linton  that,  once 
having  found  Marie  Louise,  she  did  not  lose  sight 
of  her  for  a  moment.  Rather  than  leave  her  at  the 
Friends'  Refuge  Hostel  in  Flushing,  where  she  would 
have  been  tenderly  cared  for,  she  took  her  back  to  Rot- 
terdam for  a  few  days  whilst  she  finished  up  some  busi- 
ness there.  She  feared  that  if  the  girl  were  separated 
from  her,  she  might  at  once  relapse  into  the  condition 
of  entire  mental  blankness  in  which  Tamar  and  she  had 
found  her;  and,  even  as  it  was,  Marie  Louise's  improve- 
ment was  but  slight,  fluctuating,  and  the  reverse  of 
reassuring.  But  this  did  not  daunt  Miss  Linton.  The 
great  point  to  her  was  that  this  child  probably  was 
Marie  Louise,  that  she  must  be  handed  over  to  the 
grandparents  for  identification,  and  that  if  she  did  not 
belong  to  them,  then  — 

"  Then  what?  "  asked  T.  Scott. 

"  Oh,  then  I  must  adopt  her  myself !  "  Miss  Linton 
said  with  a  laugh.  "  That's  simple  enough.  Some  one 
has  got  to  look  after  her.  Perhaps  you  would  like 
to?" 

Tamar  laughed  a  soft,  low  laugh.  The  idea  of  her 
adopting  any  one  amused  her  immensely. 

"  I  should  like  to  see  myself  adopting  any  one,"  she 
said  with  a  grim  smile.  "  You  see,  I'm  —  well  —  I 
don't  mind  telling  you  —  I'm  mean.  I  part  with  my 
money  with  difficulty." 

"  Oh,  I  daresay  that  is  only  a  habit/'  Miss  Linton 
127 


128      WHERE  YOUR  HEART  IS 

said  gaily.  "  And  the  war  is  changing  all  our  habits. 
You  will  probably  change  too,  and  want  to  adopt  num- 
berless refugee  children." 

Tamar  certainly  had  now  far  more  chance  of  chang- 
ing than  if  she  had  remained  shut  up  in  her  shop  in 
Dean  Street,  centred  on  her  own  affairs,  and  affected 
by  the  war  only  in  as  much  as  it  had  given  her  the  op- 
portunity of  buying  beautiful  bits  of  jewellery  cheaply 
and  selling  others  at  a  specially  handsome  profit.  Her 
intercourse  with  the  Thorntons,  the  result  of  her  visit 
to  Lallington,  had  opened  her  eyes  to  some  new  aspects 
of  life,  which  had  arrested  her  attention  more  even  than 
she  knew;  but  in  Holland  some  of  the  tragic  conse- 
quences of  the  war  had  literally  been  hurled  at  her  mind. 
The  impact  wrought  in  her  a  mighty  awakening  to  out- 
side influences  of  many  kinds. 

She  was  learning,  too,  something  about  people  from  a 
standpoint  different  from  that  of  a  business  relation- 
ship. The  men  and  women  to  whom  Bramfield  had  in- 
troduced her  amazed  her.  He  Mhiself  perhaps  amazed 
her  as  much  as  any  one  of  them ;  for  she  had  either  been 
blind  to  his  best  qualities,  or  else  unable  to  put  a  right 
value  on  what  he  was,  what  he  stood  for.  His  disin- 
terestedness dumbfounded  her.  Indeed,  the  disinterest- 
edness of  them  all  was  a  revelation  to  her.  If  she  was 
taking  no  other  lesson  back  from  Holland,  she  was  at 
least  taking  that. 

Her  traditions  from  her  mother,  her  own  natural  dis- 
position, her  method  of  life,  the  trend  of  her  thoughts 
were  entirely  alien  to  it.  But  it  haunted  her.  She 
turned  it  over  in  her  mind  and  contemplated  it  with  the 
same  intensity  with  which  she  would  have  stared  at  a 
precious  stone  which  puzzled,  defeated  her.  She  exam- 


WHERE  YOUR  HEART  IS      129 

ined  it,  weighed  it,  applied  all  the  tests  she  knew,  and 
finally  had  to  acknowledge  that  she  could  make  nothing 
of  it.  But  she  recognized  it  as  something  beautiful, 
though  baffling,  disturbing.  Another  characteristic  of 
these  people  which  interested  her  greatly  was  the  spon- 
taneousness  of  their  helpfulness.  The  need  being  there, 
the  deed  was  there.  No  questionings,  no  doubts,  no  de- 
lays, no  half-heartedness,  but  instant  rising  up,  instant 
coping  with  and  overcoming  every  kind  of  difficulty  and 
obstruction. 

She  was  borne  along  in  the  stream,  unconscious  of 
the  processes  at  work  in  her  spirit,  though  increasingly 
conscious  of  the  new  influences  to  which  she  was  all  the 
time  being  exposed.  She  began  to  understand  how  im- 
possible it  was  for  any  one  to  be  on  the  scene  and  not 
become  part  and  parcel  of  this  beneficent  machinery 
of  effort  on  behalf  of  the  hapless  victims  of  the  war. 
She  began  to  realize  how  Bramfield,  for  instance,  com- 
ing over  originally  for  business  purposes,  no  doubt, 
had  become  caught  in  up  to  the  hilt :  how  one  small  deed 
of  helpfulness  led  to  another  by  natural  consequence, 
even  as  sunset  follows  on  sunrise :  and  how  of  necessity 
a  camaraderie  sprang  up  amongst  the  workers  born  of 
common  obstacles,  common  aims,  common  devotion  and 
enthusiasm.  She  even  understood  how  all  their  sepa- 
rate jobs  were  interwoven  with  each  other  so  as  to 
form  a  harmonious  whole. 

Even  if  she  had  wished  it,  she  could  not  have  dissoci- 
ated herself  from  their  doings.  She  did  not  wish  it. 
She  had  promised  Bramfield  to  help  with  the  Belgian 
lady,  and  she  returned  gladly  with  Gertrude  Linton  to 
Rotterdam  who  expected  her  to  take  her  share  in  look- 
ing after  Marie  Louise. 


130      WHERE  YOUR  HEART  IS 

"You'll  of  course  stand  by,  won't  you?"  she  said. 
"  You'll  give  her  a  watchful  eye  whilst  I'm  running 
about  on  my  various  duties?  " 

"  Yes,"  Tamar  answered. 

She  was  proud  that  she  had  been  allotted  definite 
tasks  which  she  was  expected  as  a  matter  of  course  to 
perform.  She  rather  wondered  how  many  more  people 
she  would  be  required  to  look  after,  but  she  was  ready 
for  all  demands.  She  was  tired  of  having  it  taken  for 
granted  by  Bramfield  that  she  could  not  be  interested 
in  anything  except  her  own  affairs.  So  that  when  he, 
too,  claimed  a  service  from  her,  as  well  as  forgave  her 
for  the  ugliness  he  had  checked  in  her,  some  tiny  frond 
of  gracious  willingness  in  her  nature  began  to  unfold 
itself  and  struggle  to  the  light. 

She  watched  over  the  bereaved  Belgian  lady,  and 
would  scarcely  allow  herself  to  be  relieved  by  the  Rep- 
resentative's wife,  always  kind  and  considerate  for 
those  around  her.  And  she  watched  over  little  Marie 
Louise.  Miss  Linton  was  very  busy  helping  the  Soci- 
ety of  Friends  to  initiate  their  campaign  of  reconstruc- 
tion amongst  the  Belgians,  and  working  with  the  Eng- 
lish authorities  at  Flushing  in  arrangements  for  the 
shipping  of  the  refugees  to  England.  And  so  it  came 
about  that  it  was  Tamar  who  saw  most  of  the  child. 
It  was  Tamar  who  tried  to  capture  and  hold  her  fitful 
mind,  Tamar  who  bought  clothes  for  her,  Tamar  who 
found  some  bit  of  finery  for  her  which  coaxed  a  gleam 
of  pleasure  into  the  distressed  little  face.  It  was 
only  momentary,  but  it  was  enough  to  encourage  the 
belief  that  Marie  Louise  was  finding  her  way,  slowly 
and  painfully  perhaps,  yet  groping  near  the  lost 
trail. 


WHERE  YOUR  HEART  IS      131 

Once  Tamar  said  to  Bramfield: 

"  Now,  if  only  I  had  a  little  jewel  out  of  one  of  my 
trays,  I  might  give  it  to  her." 

He  stared  at  her.  She  was  amazing  him  by  some  of 
the  things  she  said  and  did  now.  Yet  she  was,  after 
all,  only  one  of  the  many  whom  the  war  was  releasing 
from  prison.  In  all  directions  citadels  were  being  as- 
sailed, and  rays  of  light  directed  into  the  darkened  re- 
cesses of  selfishness.  The  shop  in  Dean  Street  was  but 
typical  of  thousands  of  homes  barricaded  either  in  peace 
or  war  time  against  all  outside  interests  and  influences, 
except  in  so  far  as  they  would  be  likely  to  contribute 
to  the  well-being  and  wealth  of  the  people  inside  those 
strongly-defended  walls  of  partition.  The  war  would 
break  them  down,  slowly  perhaps,  but  one  by  one. 
Once  broken  down,  they  would  never  be  built  up  again. 
T.  Scott's  citadel  had  at  least  the  chance  of  falling 
sooner  than  most  people's,  because  tragic  facts  were 
being  brought  home  to  her  in  a  way  denied  to  others 
who,  safe  and  comfortable  and  sheltered  in  England, 
had  no  opportunity  of  realizing  at  first  hand  the  suffer- 
ing of  a  nation  in  agony. 

The  Belgian  lady  was  laid  to  rest  in  Rotterdam,  and 
a  few  days  afterwards  her  friend,  together  with  Bram- 
field, Tamar,  Marie  Louise  and  Miss  Linton,  left  for 
Flushing. 

Captain  Smith,  who  had  been  away  some  time,  re- 
turned the  night  before  they  left,  and  was  amongst  the 
party  who  saw  them  off  at  the  station.  He  had  taken 
a  great  liking  for  Tamar,  and  wanted  her  to 'come  out 
to  Nova  Scotia.  Tamar  laughingly  said  she  would  cer- 
tainly come. 


132      WHERE  YOUR  HEART  IS 

"  If  I  want  a  convoy,"  the  Captain  said,  "  I'll  send  a 
wireless  to  The  Lizard." 

Bramfield  looked  rather  cross.  He  was  not  at  all 
pleased  that  any  one  else  should  even  try  to  have  an 
innings  with  Tamar. 

She  parted  from  them  all  with  a  real  regret.  None  of 
them,  neither  the  Skipper,  nor  the  official  messenger, 
nor  the  Rhodes  scholar,  nor  the  Canadian  journalist, 
nor  the  Representative's  wife,  nor  the  Representative, 
nor  the  Belgian  deleguS,  nor  any  of  that  gracious  com- 
pany, would  ever  know  what  they  had  done  for  her,  what 
they  had  been  to  her.  They  would  pass  on  their  way 
and  never  know. 

Bramfield  was  not  in  the  best  of  tempers  when  they 
arrived  late  at  Flushing,  and  found  that  the  Consul  had 
gone  home  and  that  they  could  not  have  their  passports 
vised.  The  steamer  did  not  start  till  early  the  next 
morning,  but  all  passengers  had  to  go  on  board  over- 
night. It  was  maddening  to  know  the  boat  was  at  hand 
and  yet  have  to  miss  her.  Bramfield,  who  had  by  now 
worked  himself  into  a  great  rage,  determined  to  dash 
off  in  a  taxi  to  the  Consul's  house,  and,  if  possible,  bring 
him  back  to  his  duties.  Confound  the  wretched  man, 
why  wasn't  he  at  his  post?  Consuls  oughtn't  to  want 
any  rest,  any  food,  any  leisure,  any  sleep  in  war  time 
or  at  any  time. 

Every  one  tried  in  vain  .to  calm  him  and  reason  with 
him.  But  as  he  had  made  up  his  mind  to  run  his  man 
to  earth,  and  a  taxi-cab  had  been  produced  after  great 
trouble,  Tamar  thought  she  had  better  go  with  him 
and  prevent  him  from  attacking  the  chauffeur  or  any 
one  else  he  might  come  across  on  his  way  to  his  victim. 


WHERE  YOUR  HEART  IS      133 

It  was  half  an  hour's  run  out  to  the  Consul's  private 
house,  and  during  that  time  Bramfield  never  ceased  to 
storm  and  rage.  When  they  arrived  there,  they 
knocked  and  rang,  and  rang  and  knocked,  without  any 
results  except  noise.  He  seemed  beside  himself  with 
temper.  Not  a  sound,  not  a  sign  vouchsafed  the  house. 

Tamar  became  vastly  amused. 

"  You're  making  a  complete  fool  of  yourself,  Bram- 
field," she  said  calmly.  "  Until  now  I've  believed  you 
to  be  a  sensible  man.  I'd  almost  decided  to  make  you 
my  executor.  I  certainly  shall  not  now.  Come  away. 
Probably  the  Consul  is  not  here  at  all.  And  if  he  is, 
he's  evidently  not  intending  to  answer  our  summons. 
And  look  —  there's  a  man  watching  us  all  the  time  — 
and  no  wonder.  You'll  be  taken  in  charge  as  a  madman 
if  you  are  not  careful." 

"  Only  a  Secret  Service  man,"  Bramfield  said,  cooling 
down  a  little.  "  Probably  following  you,  Tamar. 
Probably  British,  too.  Probably  suspecting  you  of 
trading  with  the  enemy.  I  warned  you,  you  know. 
One  more  try  —  and  then  I'll  give  the  game  up." 

"  Come  back  and  be  sensible,"  she  urged. 

And  at  last  she  got  him  away  and  caged  him  safely 
in  the  taxi-cab. 

"  I  never  knew  you  were  such  an  entire  fool,  Bram- 
field," she  said.  "  But  I've  learnt  many  things  about 
you  lately." 

"  Have  you  ?  "  he  said,  quieting  down  and  lighting  a 
cigarette.  "Good  things,  Tamar?  Good  enough  to 
make  you  love  me,  for  instance?  " 

"  Well,  scarcely,  after  all  this  violent  behaviour,"  she 
answered  with  a  laugh.  "  But  good  enough  to  .  .  ." 

She  hesitated. 


134      WHERE  YOUR  HEART  IS 

"  Go  on,"  he  said.  "  Tell  me  the  worst  —  or  the 
best." 

"  Good  enough  to  make  me  wish  to  be  —  respected 
by  you  —  not  despised  by  you,  Bramfield,"  she  said. 

"  Despise  you-f  he  fairly  cried,  snatching  her  hand. 
"  Why,  such  a  thing  is  not  possible." 

"  But  you  saw  me  clutch  at  the  jewels,"  she  said,  with 
an  intensity  half  of  anger,  half  of  pleading. 

"  Clutch  at  all  the  jewels  you  like  in  all  places  and  at 
all  seasons,  and  I  could  never  despise  you,"  he  answered. 
"  Never." 

"  But  you  would  try  to  stop  me,"  she  said  slowly. 

"  I  would  try  to  stop  you  because  I  love  you,"  he 
said.  "  Love  doesn't  despise.  Love  understands  — 
and  wants  to  help." 

Tarn  a  r  made  no  answer.  She  did  not  withdraw  her 
hand.  It  was  he  who  withdrew  his.  He  remained  si- 
lent, thinking  of  her  words,  which  gave  him  a  new  hope 
and  of  which  he  would  have  scorned  to  take  an  unfair 
advantage. 

When  he  spoke  again,  it  was  about  that  uninvited 
person,  the  Secret  Service  man,  sitting  comfortably  in 
front  with  the  chauffeur,  about  consuls  —  confound 
them  —  and  this  one  in  particular,  and  about  that 
wretched  Canadian  skipper.  Oh,  yes,  a  fine  fellow  and 
no  mistake.  But  what  the  dickens  did  he  mean  by  in- 
viting her  to  go  to  Nova  Scotia?  It  was  absurd.  And 
a  liberty  —  a  great  liberty. 

"  And  what  would  you  do  there,  I  should  like  to 
know  ?  "  he  asked  defiantly.  "  Why,  there  would  be 
no  bargains  for  you  to  make.  You'd  droop.  You'd 
die." 

"  Well,  you  needn't  work  yourself  up  into  another 


WHERE  YOUR  HEART  IS      135 

rage  as  silly  as  the  last,"  she  said  quaintly.  "  I've  not 
gone  yet,  have  I  ?  " 

"  No,  and  you  won't  if  I  can  help  it,"  he  answered. 

Tamar  laughed.  Bramfield  was  jealous,  and  she  was 
rather  pleased.  She  was  as  sorry  as  he  when  the  car 
drew  up  at  the  hotel,  and  the  escapade  was  over. 

Gertrude  Linton,  who  received  them,  told  them  she 
had  learnt  that  the  Consul  had  been  up  day  and  night 
for  weeks  past,  and  had  had  to  seek  safety  in  flight,  in 
order  to  secure  a  little  continuous  sleep ;  and  so  it  was 
not  to  be  wondered  at  that  they  had  failed  to  bring  the 
poor  man  back. 

"  We've  missed  the  boat,  and  must  make  the  best  of 
it,"  she  said.  "  This  hotel  is  pro-German,  and  the  con- 
cierge, who  has  been  exceedingly  unfriendly,  has  refused 
to  help  us  to  get  anything  to  eat.  But  the  German 
chambermaid  has  been  a  brick,  and  has  managed  to 
annex  rolls  and  butter  from  the  dining-room  which  is 
shut  up.  We  can  turn  into  the  smoking-room  and  have 
a  bite  there." 

Gretchen,  the  German  chambermaid,  looked  in  upon 
them,  friendly  in  manner  and  smiling  of  countenance. 

"  Ach !  I  take  no  notice  of  the  war,"  she  said.  "  I 
have  no  patience  with  the  silly  nations  flying  at  each 
other's  throats  in  this  silly  fashion.  Ja !  I  can  get 
you  some  more  butter  if  you  want  it.  Ach,  I  was  very 
happy  when  I  was  in  England.  Two,  three  years  I  was 
there  in  a  very  kind  English  family.  I  am  thinking  of 
them  now  when  I  am  doing  this  little  service  for  you  all. 
And  my  Fritz  is  shut  up  in  that  Alexandra  Palace.  Ja, 
he  was  hairdresser.  A  good,  nice  boy.  Ach,  ach,  what 
a  world !  It  seems  we  are  all  gone  mad.  And  the  poor 
little  Belgian  girl  upstairs.  Ach,  ach,  what  a  sadness ! 


136      WHERE  YOUR  HEART  IS 

But  she's  asleep  now.  I  looked  into  the  room.  Ach, 
mein  Gott,  and  Madame  weeping  in  the  other  room.  I 
have  to  weep,  too." 

"  Probably  a  spy,"  Bramfield  said  when  she  was  gone. 
"  Now  be  careful,  Tamar.  Don't  give  away  any  State 
secrets." 

But  Gertrude  Linton  would  not  hear  of  Gretchen  be- 
ing a  spy. 

"  Any  one  and  every  one,  but  not  Gretchen,"  she  said 
staunchly. 

But  whatever  Gretchen  was,  she  had  got  the  whole 
thing  in  a  nutshell.  The  world  had  gone  mad.  And 
this  was  only  the  beginning  of  the  madness. 

The  next  day  they  saw  more  refugees  in  another  rail- 
way shed,  and  visited  a  few  others  who,  having  a  little 
money  of  their  own,  were  quartered  in  some  of  the 
poor  houses  in  Flushing,  waiting  until  their  passage 
to  England  could  be  arranged  for.  Then,  to  recover 
from  the  scenes  of  misery  and  suffering,  they  accepted 
the  invitation  of  a  Dutch  naval  officer,  a  friend  of  Bram- 
field's,  to  inspect  the  submarine  of  which  he  was  Com- 
mander. He  took  them  one  by  one  into  his  magician's 
chamber  and  tried  to  explain  to  their  lay  minds  some  of 
the  mechanism,  diabolical,  thrilling,  marvellous. 

This  ended  their  experiences  in  Holland,  but  they  had 
many  excitements  on  their  journey  home  to  England. 
There  were  six  or  seven  French  escaped  prisoners  from 
Germany  on  board,  with  whom  Bramfield  and  Miss  Lin- 
ton  had  a  talk  on  the  quiet ;  for  it  was  a  Dutch  boat,  and 
the  men  might  have  had  to  be  interned  if  the  Captain 
had  chosen  officially  to  recognize  their  presence.  But 
he  did  not.  Sympathy  with  them,  therefore,  and  active 


WHERE  YOUR  HEART  IS      137 

help  for  them  in  the  way  of  contributions  of  money  and 
cigarettes  had  to  be  proffered  in  a  wise  secrecy.  There 
was  a  man  on  board  known  by  the  Secret  Service  to  be 
a  German  spy,  who  had  hitherto  eluded  all  the  people  on 
the  look-out  for  him ;  and  he  was  going  to  be  seized  the 
moment  he  set  foot  on  English  soil.  And  there  was  a 
very  handsome  woman  of  the  prima  donna  type,  the  Ger- 
man wife  of  an  Englishman  interned  in  Ruhleben,  but 
suspected  of  being  in  sympathy  with  the  enemy  and  a 
traitor.  She,  being  a  British  subject,  was  allowed  to 
proceed,  but  was  being  closely  watched  and  followed. 
To  crown  all,  the  man  with  the  false  hand  was  on  board. 
He  was  disguised.  Tamar's  attention  was  drawn  to  him 
by  a  curious  tie-pin  he  wore.  It  was  an  alexandrite 
cat's-eye  and  a  beautiful  specimen,  too,  of  that  rare 
stone.  She  stared  at  it,  stared  at  him,  and  once  again 
observed  the  stiff  arm,  the  hand  of  which  was  thrust  into 
his  coat  pocket.  He  had  travelled  first  class,  but  dis- 
appeared before  the  end  of  the  journey.  Bramfield,  to 
whom  Tamar  confided  her  discovery,  found  him  stowed 
away  in  the  second  class.  He  would  not  be  landing,  of 
course,  but  would  be  trying  to  get  into  communication 
with  some  confederate  in  port. 

"  He'll  be  dished  sooner  or  later,"  Bramfield  said. 
"  We're  not  so  silly  as  we  appear.  Do  you  remember 
what  the  Representative  said  about  our  Secret  Service? 
He  said  he  couldn't  slice  an  orange  without  our  Secret 
Service  knowing  of  it.  I  must  say  it  has  been  a  comfort 
to  me  to  hear  that." 

"  Well,  let's  hope  we  do  something  as  well  as  know 
something,"  Tamar  said  grimly. 

"  Why,  Tamar,  you're  becoming  quite  patriotic,"  he 
said.  "  You'll  be  enlisting  soon." 


138      WHERE  YOUR  HEART  IS 

She  laughed  a  soft  little  laugh.  More  and  more  did 
she  like  it  when  Bramfield  teased  her. 

They  landed,  and  after  many  preliminaries  and  much 
waiting,  finally  got  free  from  the  authorities  and  pro- 
ceeded on  their  way.  But  now  an  unforeseen  difficulty 
arose.  Bramfield  had  arranged  to  take  the  Belgian 
lady,  who  had  borne  the  journey  very  well,  to  her 
friends  in  Baling,  and  Gertrude  Linton  intended  to  de- 
posit Marie  Louise  at  her  cousin's  house  and  then  ac- 
quaint grandpere  and  grand'mere  G£rardin  that  some 
one  had  been  found  who  might  possibly,  indeed  very 
probably,  prove  to  be  their  grand-daughter,  but  that 
owing  to  her  mental  condition  and  the  loss  of  her  mem- 
ory and  her  pitiful  appearance,  no  stranger  could  be 
sure  of  her  identity.  So  the  kindest  plan  was  to  ex- 
plain the  position  before  they  saw  her,  and  thus  fortify 
them  against  what  might  prove  to  be  a  bitter  disap- 
pointment. 

But  when  it  came  to  parting  with  Tamar,  Marie  Lou- 
ise clung  to  her  with  might  and  main,  and  showed  every 
sign  of  developing  all  her  worst  symptoms,  from  the 
early  severity  of  which  she  had  been  somewhat  weaned. 
Nothing  would  make  her  budge  from  T.  Scott's  side. 
This  was  entirely  a  new  experience  to  Tamar.  Never 
before  had  any  one  dared  or  cared  to  take  possession  of 
her  in  this  way.  She  looked  at  Marie  Louise  and 
looked  at  Gertrude  Linton,  said  nothing,  felt  a  bit 
sheepish,  embarrassed,  doubtful.  Miss  Linton  settled 
things  in  her  own  patent  fashion. 

"  Oh,  well,  T.  Scott,"  she  said  gaily,  "  we  must  come 
and  sleep  at  your  house.  There's  nothing  else  to  be 
done." 


WHERE  YOUR  HEART  IS      139 

"  Sleep  at  my  house,"  Tamar  repeated,  aghast. 
**  Why,  no  one  has  ever  done  that." 

"  Well,  it's  about  time  they  did,"  answered  Miss  Lin- 
ton,  nothing  daunted.  "  Any  old  shakedown  will  do. 
I  suppose  you  have  a  chair  or  two,  haven't  you?  And 
a  rug  or  two?  What  more  do  we  want?  Cheer  up! 
It's  your  own  fault,  you  know.  You  ought  not  to  have 
been  so  good  to  the  girl.  Clearly  you  will  have  to  be 
the  one  to  adopt  her  if  she  doesn't  belong  to  these  peo- 
ple! Or  we'll  share  her  together.  Come  along;  we 
can't  stand  here  hesitating.  Marie  Louise  will  make  a 
scene.  We  can  buy  food  on  our  way.  'The  great  point 
is  to  get  a  roof  over  our  heads,  side  by  side  with  you." 

Marie  Louise  and  Miss  Linton  gained  the  day,  but 
Tamar's  face  was  a  study  in  bewilderment  mingled  with 
increasing  pleasure,  decreasing  sullenness,  new-born 
tenderness. 

It  would  have  needed  a  harder  heart  than  Tamar's 
not  to  have  responded  to  the  human  appeal  of  the  little 
forlorn  refugee  who  clung  so  tightly  to  her  skirt  as  if 
in  terror  of  being  torn  asunder  from  a  protecting  pres- 
ence on  which  she  had  learnt  to  lean. 

So  they  headed  for  Dean  Street. 


CHAPTER  X 

MRS.  BRIDGES,  the  old  char,  received  them.  She 
had  been  warned  by  a  telegram,  the  receipt  of 
which  amazed  her  exceedingly.  Never  before  had  she 
had  a  telegram  from  Tamar.  Extravagance  begets  ex- 
travagance, and  she  allowed  herself  the  recklessness  of 
lighting  a  fire  in  the  inner  room,  and  took  the  risk  of 
being  scolded  roundly.  But  to  her  astonishment  T. 
Scott  made  no  complaint.  On  the  contrary,  she 
seemed  pleased.  She  drew  a  chair  to  the  fender,  placed 
Marie  Louise  in  it,  knelt  down  by  her  side  and  warmed 
the  child's  hands. 

"  So  this  is  your  home,  T.  Scott,"  Miss  Linton  said, 
warming  her  own  hands  and  glancing  round  with  inter- 
est at  the  old  china  and  the  antiques. 

"  This  is  my  home,"  Tamar  said. 

"  Well  I,  for  one,  am  glad  to  be  going  to  spend  the 
night  amongst  such  beautiful  things,"  Gertrude  Linton 
said.  "  We  can  put  Marie  Louise  on  that  Jacobean 
couch,  can't  we?  And  I  can  sleep  in  the  Jacobean 
arm-chair.  I  suppose  they  are  Jacobean  ?  " 

Tamar  nodded,  and  Miss  Linton  added: 

"  So  you  see  we  sha'n't  really  be  disturbing  you  so 
much,  after  all.  You  don't  regret  taking  us  in?  " 

"  I  have  never  had  visitors  before,"  Tamar  answered, 
a  little  surlily. 

Miss  Linton  laughed.  She  was  beginning  to  know 
some  of  Tamar's  characteristics.  They  did  not  alarm 

140 


WHERE  YOUR  HEART  IS      141 

her  in  the  least.  She  believed,  and  rightly,  that  they 
were  negotiable. 

"  Don't  be  frightened  by  visitors,"  she  said.  "  Vis- 
itors are  only  formidable  if  they  are  allowed  to  be 
so." 

"  Visitors,"  chuckled  the  old  char  to  herself,  as  she 
went  to  the  kitchen  with  the  coffee  and  rolls  and  butter 
which  they  had  brought  in.  "  No,  she's  never  had  no 
visitors  before  to  sleep  here,  and  not  many  to  take  so 
much  as  a  bite  since  I've  been  coming  these  last  fifteen 
years.  And  won't  she  just  grudge  them  the  food!  I 
know  her,  I  do." 

She  was  still  chortling,  when  Tamar  came  into  the 
kitchen  with  another  small  parcel  which  she  opened  and 
displayed  to  the  astonished  old  woman  as  ham  cut  in 
slices. 

"  Why,"  she  said,  "  you're  fair  ruining  yourself. 
That's  what  you're  doing.  Perhaps  I  oughtn't  to  have 
lit  the  fire.  But  I  did  say  to  myself  if  you  was  angry 
I'd  give  you  the  bundle  of  wood  myself  and  the  coals 
too." 

A  smile  passed  over  Tamar's  face.  She  and  the  old 
woman  understood  each  other. 

"  Make  haste  with  the  coffee,"  she  urged.  "  And  you 
can  do  some  toast.  I'm  quite  willing  to  accept  the 
bundle  of  wood  and  the  coals  if  you  want  me  to.  I  have 
a  little  present  for  you  somewhere,  a  small  bottle  of 
Dutch  gin.  Schiedam,  they  call  it." 

"  I  don't  mind  what  they  call  it  as  long  as  I  get  it," 
the  old  woman  said.  "A  present  for  me.  Well,  I 
never.  Times  is  changed.  I  don't  know  where  I  am." 

"  Nor  do  I,"  said  Tamar,  with  a  good-tempered  little 
laugh.  "  But  you  are  right.  Times  have  changed  — 


142      WHERE  YOUR  HEART  IS 

and  we've  got  to  change  with  them.  At  least,  it  ap- 
pears so.  I'm  not  sure  I  like  it." 

*'  It  seems  to  suit  you,"  the  old  woman  remarked,  as 
she  set  about  preparing  the  coffee.  "  You  look  as 
though  you'd  been  enjoying  yourself  for  once.  A  good 
thing  to  get  away  from  them  jewels  and  all  the  rubbish 
here." 

"  I  am  glad  to  get  home,"  Tamar  said.  "  But  I  did 
not  expect  to  bring  people  back  with  me.  But  the  little 
Belgian  refugee  wouldn't  be  parted  from  me." 

The  old  woman  looked  up  from  the  coffee  pot. 

"  Wouldn't  be  parted  from  you  ?  "  she  repeated,  with 
a  puzzled  grin  on  her  face. 

"  No,"  said  Tamar,  with  a  slight  tone  of  triumph  in 
her  voice.  "  You  think  that  strange,  don't  you?  " 

The  old  woman  did  not  trust  herself  to  speak.  She 
just  nodded. 

"  I  think  it  strange,  too,"  Tamar  said.  "  But,  you 
see,  we  rescued  her  from  a  dreadful  place.  It  makes 
me  shudder  when  I  think  of  that  barge  where  we  found 
her.  When  I  think  of  it,  I  don't  mind  having  brought 
her  here  —  in  fact,  I  begin  to  be  glad  —  in  a  sort  of 
way.  I  shall  put  her  in  my  bed  tonight.  I'll  bring  the 
blankets  down,  and  as  there  is  a  fire,  we  can  air  them 
well." 

The  old  woman  stood  staring  after  her. 

"  I'm  fair  dazed,"  she  murmured.  "  Times  is 
changed.  Not  angry  about  the  fire.  Bread,  butter, 
ham  and  coffee  for  them  all.  The  young  girl  sleeping 
in  her  bed.  Didn't  forget  the  old  woman.  Brought  a 
present  for  her.  What  did  she  call  it?  Some  outland- 
ish name.  But  I  don't  mind  what  they  call  it  as  long 
as  I  get  it.  A  present  for  me." 


WHERE  YOUR  HEART  IS      146 

So  Marie  Louise,  tucked  up  in  warm  blankets,  went 
to  sleep  in  Tamar's  bed,  with  her  hand  clasping  tightly 
Tamar's  hand.  Gertrude  Linton  chose  the  Jacobean 
couch  in  the  inner  room,  to  which  she  appeared  to  have 
taken  a  fancy,  and  Tamar,  with  a  secret  reluctance, 
conceded  it  to  her.  For  no  one  except  herself  had 
rested  on  it  since  the  day,  long  ago  now,  yet  ever  borne 
in  remembrance,  when  the  only  man  she  had  loved,  had 
sought  there  a  merciful  repose  at  a  moment  of  over- 
whelming mental  anxiety  and  intense  bodily  fatigue. 
She  had  watched  by  his  side  throughout  the  night  in 
the  same  chair  in  which  she  was  now  keeping  vigil ;  for 
when  she  found  that  she  could  not  sleep  on  the  sofa 
in  her  room,  she  had  thrown  on  her  dressing-gown,  bent 
over  Marie  Louise  to  make  sure  the  child  was  soundly 
asleep  and  not  likely  to  wake  and  miss  her,  and  then 
crept  down  to  the  inner  room,  where  Miss  Linton,  en- 
tirely hidden  under  a  mountain  of  rugs  and  cloaks,  was 
dead  to  the  world,  oblivious  of  wars  and  refugees, 
barges,  internment  camps,  escaped  French  prisoners, 
spies,  Germans,  Belgians,  British  Governments,  Ameri- 
can Relief  Commissions,  cargoes  of  mercy,  Dutch  Com- 
mittees, and  officials  of  every  grade,  and  reconstruction 
schemes  of  every  variety.  Tomorrow  she  would  be  alive 
and  keen  again,  with  that  magic  vitality  and  that  amaz- 
ing disinterestedness  which  was  an  abiding  wonder  to 
T.  Scott.  But  meantime  she  was  just  that  mountain  of 
rugs,  nothing  less,  nothing  more.  No  need  to  keep 
vigil  over  her. 

But  even  in  this  condition  she  was  a  link  with  all  the 
astonishing  things  Tamar  had  seen,  with  all  the  experi- 
ences crowded  into  those  three  weeks ;  and  it  was  with 
these  happenings  shared  with  her  and  with  those  other 


144      WHERE  YOUR  HEART  IS 

comrades  left  behind  and  with  Bramfield  as  she  now 
knew  him,  that  Tamar's  thoughts  kept  vigil.  No,  not 
with  the  dead,  not  with  the  past,  but  with  the  present, 
with  the  overwhelming  present  which  had  thrust  itself 
upon  her  with  a  force  she  could  not  resist.  Never  could 
she  forgot  what  she  had  seen,  heard,  learnt.  The  world 
at  war.  The  world  caught  up  in  a  network  of  tragedy. 
An  upheaval  of  life.  Devastation  and  agony  —  and 
this  only  the  beginning  of  the  story.  That  was  what 
all  those  people  over  there  said  constantly  —  the  begin- 
ning. It  would  go  on,  it  would  go  on,  it  would  go  on, 
so  they  said;  and  the  sights  and  scenes  they  had  been 
witnessing  there  would  prove  to  be  mere  incidents  — 
an  ushering  in  of  larger  and  even  more  tragic  conse- 
quences. 

And  this  was  the  knowledge  she  had  brought  back 
from  her  quest  for  Dutch  nefs.  Rather  laughable, 
wasn't  it  ?  Yes,  she  had  gone  for  Dutch  nefs,  and  she'd 
got  them  —  and  not  only  them,  but  all  this  disturbing, 
disintegrating  knowledge,  and  a  disquieting  foreboding 
that  the  inner  room  and  the  outer  shop  were  going  to 
lose  their  hold  on  her.  That  was  ridiculous,  of  course. 
She  had  never  felt  like  that  before.  It  was  only  because 
she  had  been  out  of  touch  with  the  things  most  dear  to 
her.  Three  weeks  —  and  she  had  not  handled  a  single 
precious  stone,  except  that  emerald  in  the  crow's-nest 
of  that  lovely  little  nef.  Ah,  Bramfield  might  laugh 
and  tease  her  and  be  sceptical,  but  it  remained  true, 
and  would  remain  true,  that  she  had  never  made  a  mis- 
take about  an  emerald.  About  a  ruby  —  yes,  she  ad- 
mitted, and  she  had  kept  it  in  the  safe  as  a  reminde~  of 
her  mistake.  But  about  an  emerald  —  no. 


WHERE  YOUR  HEART  IS      145 

A  desire  seized  her  to  have  a  look  at  her  treasures 
hidden  away  in  the  safe.  She  rose,  and  with  trembling 
hands,  as  the  desire  grew  stronger  and  her  passion  for 
precious  stones  leapt  to  a  fierce  flame,  she  detached  from 
her  neck  the  ribbon  with  the  key,  and  opened  the  safe. 
And  then  she  was  once  more  in  her  own  world,  in  those 
magic  realms  in  which  she  loved  to  wander.  The  outer 
life  fell  from  her  as  a  garment. 

Yes,  they  were  all  there,  opals  and  pearls  and  rubies, 
sapphires,  emeralds  and  diamonds,  all  her  choicest 
treasures,  and  others  of  less  value  but  prized  for  some 
special  characteristics  which  appealed  to  her  fantasy. 
Face  to  face  with  them  again,  she  adored  them,  gloated 
over  them,  crooned  over  them,  could  not  bring  herself 
to  leave  them  alone,  but  kept  on  taking  them  out,  then 
replacing  them,  then  taking  them  out  again,  now  in 
batches,  now  singly,  choosing  out  her  favourites,  and 
so  on  and  on  with  all  the  stones,  even  as  a  mother  might 
caress  one  child  and  then  another  and  begin  all  over 
again,  laughing  softly  perhaps  from  very  joy.  So 
Tamar  laughed.  She  was  extraordinarily  happy,  and 
held  in  an  ecstasy. 

But  suddenly  she  heard  a  cough.  She  remembered 
then  only  that  she  was  not  alone,  and  glancing  round, 
saw  that  the  mountain  of  rugs  and  cloaks  had  become 
dislodged,  and  that  Gertrude  Linton  was  sitting  up  in 
their  midst,  staring  at  her.  Instinctively  Tamar  tried 
to  conceal  her  treasures  by  spreading  her  hands  over 
her  lap  in  which  they  were  reposing. 

"  What  on  earth  did  you  do  that  for?  "  Miss  Linton 
asked.  "  I  don't  want  to  grab  any  of  those  footling 
things." 


146      WHERE  YOUR  HEART  IS 

"  Footling  things,  indeed,"  Tamar  said  indignantly. 
"  Why,  they  are  most  valuable  —  priceless  some  of 
them." 

"  Well,  then,  how  rich  you  must  be,"  the  other  re- 
joined sleepily.  "  Why,  you  could  charter  dozens  of 
relief  ships  and  adopt  all  the  refugees  in  all  the  barges 
and  railway  sheds.  Not  to  speak  of  Marie  Louise. 
You  must  certainly  adopt  her,  T.  Scott.  It's  up  to 
you  to  do  so.  I  won't  after  what  I've  seen.  Well, 
good-night  again." 

She  disappeared  beneath  the  rugs  again,  and  was 
soon  sound  asleep  once  more.  Tamar  sat  for  a  while 
with  the  jewels  still  spread  in  her  lap,  but  she  no  longer 
fingered  them. 

"  She  didn't  want  to  clutch  them,"  she  said  aloud. 
And  a  shudder  passed  through  her  as  she  remembered 
the  incident  at  Bergen-op-Zoom,  of  which  she  remained 
bitterly  ashamed. 

Again  that  amazing  disinterestedness  which  had  been 
such  a  revelation  to  her  held  her  thoughts.  These 
lovely  stones  in  all  their  glittering  beauty  —  and  the 
only  impression  made  by  them  on  Gertrude  Linton's 
mind  was  their  usefulness  for  chartering  relief  ships  and 
feeding  and  adopting  refugees.  Yes,  there  was  some- 
thing baffling  in  that  quality  of  character.  She  would 
never  be  able  to  understand  it  —  and  never  to  acquire 
it.  Not  if  she  lived  a  hundred,  a  thousand  years. 

Ah,  what  about  Marie  Louise  upstairs?  Was  the 
child  sleeping  peacefully?  She  had  better  go  up  and 
see  if  all  were  well  with  her.  But  stay  —  how  \vould  it 
be  if  she  found  her  a  little  trinket  —  the  sort  of  thing 
she  had  wished  to  give  her  in  Rotterdam  —  something 
which  she  herself  did  not  very  much  mind  parting  from 


WHERE  YOUR  HEART  IS      147 

—  something  which  would  not  be  too  great  a  sacrifice? 
The  child  would  be  pleased,  and  the  pleasure  might  be 
helpful  and  healing.  Nothing  from  the  inner-room 
safe,  of  course.  That  would  be  ridiculous.  But  per- 
haps a  little  bracelet  from  one  of  the  cheap  trays  in  the 
outer  shop.  That  little  thin,  old-fashioned  one  with  the 
garnet  in.  No,  that  was  too  good.  She  could  not  give 
that  away.  But  there  would  be  some  other  equally 
suitable,  and  not  so  saleable. 

Tamar  shut  the  safe,  lit  a  candle  and  crept  into  the 
outer  shop.  She  glanced  around,  and  then  stood  as  if 
greeting  the  objects  so  familiar  to  her.  She  chose  one 
or  two  trays  of  mixed  jewels,  put  them  on  the  counter, 
studied  them  attentively,  and  finally  selected  a  tiny 
pendant  and  a  chain,  imitation  Renaissance,  very 
charming  but  not  valuable.  But,  except  Tom's  amulet, 
she  had  never  before  given  anything  away,  and  she  was 
therefore  making  a  tremendous  sacrifice  of  habit,  if  not 
of  money.  Once  she  nearly  restored  the  trinket  to  its 
accustomed  tray,  but  changed  her  mind  and  passed  up- 
stairs to  her  room. 

Marie  Louise  was  fast  asleep,  but  moaning  in  her 
dreams  and  murmuring: 

**  Non,  non,  je  reste  avec  toi;  non,  non,  je  reste  avec 
toi." 

Very  beautiful  looked  Tamar  as  she  heard  those 
words.  She  knelt  down  by  her  side,  and  with  a  gentle- 
ness of  which  no  one  could  have  thought  her  capable, 
fastened  the  chain  twice  round  the  girl's  wrist. 

"  She  will  find  it  when  she  wakes,"  she  said. 


CHAPTER  XI 

OFF  to  Dulwich  sped  Miss  Linton,  restored  to  life 
and  renewed  endeavour  after  a  night  of  repose  en- 
tirely undisturbed  by  thoughts  of  the  war,  or  by  haunt- 
ing memories  of  that  vision  of  precious  stones  vouch- 
safed to  her  for  one  fleeting  moment  in  the  inner  room. 
Monsieur  and  Madame  Gerardin,  the  old  Belgian  couple, 
who  were  awaiting  anxiously  her  report  of  the  search, 
received  her  with  trembling  excitement.  Grand'mere 
kept  on  saying: 

"Ah,  Madame,  you  would  know  her  by  her  bright 
eyes,  dancing  with  happiness,  and  her  joyous  laugh. 
Such  a  laugh,  isn't  it,  Grandpere?  " 

But  grandpere  shook  his  head  and  said: 

"  Helas  !  perhaps  her  young  eyes  were  not  bright  any 
longer,  cherie ;  and  perhaps  there  was  no  ringing  laugh- 
ter such  as  we  knew  before  these  terrible  times." 

Then  Gertrude  Linton,  with  a  merciful  reticence,  gave 
an  account  of  the  young  girl  whom  she  had  found  in  the 
hold  of  the  barge,  alone  and  desolate,  and  not  very 
strong,  and  — 

"  Well,  you  see,"  she  said  gently,  "  it  often  happens 
that  with  a  great  shock,  such  as  this  poor  child  has  had, 
one's  memory  goes.  But  it  comes  back.  Of  course  it 
comes  back.  And  this  child,  whoever  she  is,  has  alread}' 
made  some  improvement.  Every  day  makes  a  difference 
to  her.  But  we  cannot  be  sure  that  she  is  your  little 
Marie  Louise.  Absolutely  the  only  clue  we  went  on, 

148 


WHERE  YOUR  HEART  IS      149 

was  that  she  appears  to  recognize  the  name  of  the  dog. 
But  we've  brought  her  to  England  on  the  sporting 
chance.  And  if  you  are  destined  to  be  disappointed, 
all  I  can  say  is  you  must  try  to  forgive  us,  and  we  will 
go  on  with  the  search." 

They  thanked  her  with  tears  in  their  eyes,  and  started 
off  for  Dean  Street  full  of  hope  and  of  good  courage, 
buoyed  up  with  Miss  Linton's  cheerfulness  and  belief 
that  good  fortune  might  be  awaiting  them. 

"  There  is  no  doubt,"  she  said,  "  that  Fido's  name 
did  strike  some  chord  in  her  memory.  And  wasn't  it  a 
good  idea  to  try  her  with  that?  It  was  not  my  idea. 
It  was  the  idea  of  the  lady  to  whose  house  we  are 
going  now.  It  was  an  inspiration  —  simple,  like  all 
inspirations." 

"  Ah,"  sighed  Madame  Gerardin,  "  if  it  could  only 
come  true  that  Fido,  always  the  good,  patient  friend  of 
the  children,  should  on  this  occasion,  too,  prove  to  be 
the  kind  friend  of  us  all." 

Gertrude  Linton  pressed  the  arm  which  clung  to  her 
for  support,  repeated  the  story  several  times,  at  the 
request  now,  of  Grandpere,  now  of  Grand'mere,  listened 
with  unfailing  interest  to  the  history  of  Marie  Louise 
from  the  moment  she  had  been  born  until  the  time  when, 
in  the  terrible  flight,  she  had  been  torn  from  their  side, 
and  nodded  sympathetically  as  she  heard  the  long  list  of 
all  her  qualities  and  talents.  Never  in  the  world's  his- 
tory had  there  been  such  a  wonderful  young  girl  as 
Marie  Louise,  never  any  one  so  sweet,  so  bright  and  so 
beautiful. 

"  Of  course  not,  of  course  not,"  said  Miss  Linton, 
with  a  tug  at  her  heart,  as  she  saw  with  her  mind's  eye 
that  wreck  of  a  young  girl,  desolate  and  suffering  and 


150      WHERE  YOUR  HEART  IS 

distraught  at  the  moment  of  her  rescue,  and  even  now 
only  at  the  beginning  of  a  recovery  which  would  prob- 
ably take  months  of  tender  care. 

And  meanwhile  Marie  Louise  was  keeping  company 
with  Tamar  in  the  shop.  She  wore  round  her  neck  the 
little  chain  and  Renaissance  pendant  which  she  fiddled 
with  from  time  to  time,  to  make  sure  that  this  treasure 
was  still  in  her  safe  possession.  She  was  evidently  de- 
lighted with  it,  for  she  glanced  at  Tamar,  pointed  to  it 
and  smiled  a  ghost  of  a  smile.  She  had  not  yet  arrived 
at  the  stage  of  desiring  conversation ;  indeed,  scarcely  a 
word  escaped  her  lips.  But  her  silence  was  a  help 
rather  than  a  bar  to  successful  intercourse  with  Tamar, 
whose  French,  like  that  of  some  of  England's  Foreign 
Officials,  was  strictly  limited.  She  had,  however,  un- 
earthed a  French  dictionary  and  placed  it  on  the  coun- 
ter, in  case  of  pressing  need.  But  so  far  it  had  not  been 
called  into  requisition ;  for  there  were  far  more  easy  and 
agreeable  means  of  intercommunion  then  mere  language: 
china  figures,  bronze  figures,  lovely  silver  boxes  and 
bonbonnieres,  candle-sticks,  crucifixes,  benitiers,  brass 
warming-pans,  cups  and  saucers  and  plates  and  cases  of 
rings  and  all  sorts  of  jewellery  and  antiques.  Tamar 
reviewed  her  possessions,  dusted  them,  searched  the  walls 
with  lynx-eyes  to  make  sure  that  nothing  was  missing, 
and  was  followed  close  at  heel  by  Marie  Louise,  who 
stared  at  the  things  intently,  touched  them  now  and 
then,  and  was  certainly  interested  in  them,  in  her  fright- 
ened, bewildered  way.  But  the  sound  of  the  shop-bell 
sent  her  each  time  flying  like  some  scared  animal  into  the 
inner  room ;  and  on  the  fourth  occasion  Tamar  showed 
positive  resentment  to  the  unfortunate  intruder  who  had 


WHERE  YOUR  HEART  IS      151 

dared  to  enter  the  shop  and  cause  a  disturbance  of  the 
atmosphere. 

"  Well,  what  do  you  want  ?  "  she  said  in  her  brusque, 
uncompromising  way  to  the  offending  party,  a  lady  well 
on  in  years  and  dressed  up  to  the  ninth. 

The  criminal  glared  at  her  through  her  lorgnette  and 
answered : 

"  I  did  want  that  large  silver  buckle  in  your  window. 
I  had  taken  a  fancy  to  it.  But  I  don't  think  I  want  to 
buy  anything  from  such  an  exceedingly  rude  person.  I 
cannot  imagine  you  do  much  business  if  this  is  the  way 
you  conduct  your  affairs." 

Tamar  smiled  one  of  her  grim  smiles  as  the  lady 
walked  out  of  the  shop. 

"  She  will  return  another  time,"  she  said.  "  They 
always  return  when  they  take  a  fancy  to  a  thing.  And 
as  for  business,  well,  my  good  woman  with  the  lorgnette, 
so  far  I  have  been  able  to  save  myself  from  the  work- 
house —  rudeness  or  no  rudeness." 

Then,  the  coast  being  clear,  she  coaxed  her  little 
friend  back,  and  was  succeeding  in  amusing  and  inter- 
esting Marie  Louise's  fitful  mind,  when  once  more  the 
bell  rang,  and  off  dashed  the  child. 

But  Grand'mere  and  Grandpere  had  seen  her.  They 
followed  her  into  the  inner  room,  almost  stumbling  over 
each  other  in  their  haste. 

"  Grand'mere !  Grandpere !  "  cried  the  girl,  as  she 
was  gathered  to  their  hearts. 

Tamar  leaned  over  the  counter,  staring  into  empty 
space,  and  Gertrude  Linton  stood,  with  her  eyes  fixed 
on  the  ground.  Neither  spoke.  Before  each  of  them 


152      WHERE  YOUR  HEART  IS 

rose  a  vision  of  that  barge,  the  dim  light,  the  desolation, 
the  despair  of  the  scene,  the  girl  in  the  far-off  corner 
rocking  herself  from  side  to  side  and  moaning,  always 
moaning,  forlorn,  unclaimed,  unloved,  unidentified,  lost, 
doomed. 

And  they  had  found  and  rescued  her. 


CHAPTER  XII 

ERTRUDE  LINTON,  after  receiving  further  in- 
structions  for  her  work  at  Flushing,  returned  to 
Holland. 

Tamar  and  she  parted  from  each  other  with  marked 
regret. 

"Good-bye,  T.  Scott,"  she  said,  "but  don't  flatter 
yourself  that  you've  got  rid  of  me.  If  I'm  not  torpe- 
doed, you'll  see  me  again  soon.  For  very  much  do  I 
approve  of  Dean  Street,  the  inner  room  and  that  Jaco- 
bean couch  where  I  had  the  best  night's  rest  in  my  life. 
You  have  not  invited  me  to  come  again,  but  suppose  I 
did  come?  What  then?  You  wouldn't  turn  me  out, 
would  you  ?  " 

"  Probably  not,"  Tamar  said,  with  a  soft  little  laugh. 

"  And  supposing  I  was  to  bring  another  refugee  with 
me?  "  Miss  Linton  went  on,  half  teasingly,  half  in  ear- 
nest. "  For  there's  no  knowing  what  might  happen  in 
these  strange  days.  Would  you  be  likely  to  turn  that 
refugee  out?  " 

"  Probably  not,"  Tamar  answered. 

"You  haven't  found  visitors  so  formidable?"  Ger- 
trude Linton  asked. 

"  No,"  Tamar  said  with  a  smile,  "  I've  rather  liked 
them." 

"  All  right,  then,"  the  other  said.  "  Expect  me  at 
any  time,  with  any  one!  I  may  even  have  to  ask  you 
to  adopt  some  one.  You  know  you  really  ought  to 

153 


154      WHERE  YOUR  HEART  IS 

adopt  some  one,  now  that  we  have  landed  Marie  Louise 
safely  with  her  own  people.  Yes,  you  really  ought,  with 
all  that  hidden  wealth  of  yours.  You  must  be  rolling  in 
money,  like  the  shipowners.  I  only  caught  a  glimpse  of 
those  treasures,  partly  because  I  was  so  sleepy  and 
partly  because  you  hid  them  up  at  once.  Did  you 
really  think  I  was  going  to  leap  on  you,  murder  you 
and  dash  off  with  them  ?  I  believe  you  did." 

"  If  I  had  'been  the  one  to  see  them,  I  should  have 
wanted  them,"  Tamar  said,  half  ashamed,  half  sullen  at 
the  remembrance  of  the  precaution  she  had  taken. 

"  Well,  all  I  can  say  is,  I  want  them  now,"  Gertrude 
Linton  went  on.  "  Yes,  I  should  like  about  a  thousand 
pounds  for  our  own  English  Refugee  Committee,  and 
another  thousand  for  the  Friends,  to  help  carry  out 
their  work  of  reconstruction,  and  about  two  or  three 
for  the  American  Relief  Commission.  Ah,  I  have  it! 
Why  not  begin  by  sending  a  good  round  sum  direct 
to  that  authoress  who  was  writing  the  appeal?  You 
found  the  title  for  her:  *  Cargoes  of  Mercy'  Why 
not  find  some  money,  too?  That's  a  good  idea,  isn't 
it?" 

"  A  very  good  idea,  coming  from  some  one  who  has 
not  to  find  the  good  round  sum,"  Tamar  remarked  with 
some  amusement. 

Miss  Linton  laughed. 

"  Think  about  it,  T.  Scott,"  she  said.  "  And  now, 
good-bye.  And  as  I  observed  before,  don't  imagine  for 
one  moment  that  you  have  got  rid  of  me.  There's  a 
bond  between  us  — •  the  bond  of  the  little  derelict  we 
found  —  and  lost.  I  miss  Marie  Louise.  I  believe  you 
miss  her." 

"  Perhaps  I  do,"  Tamar  said,  turning  away.     "  You 


WHERE  YOUR  HEART  IS      155 

see,  she  clung  to  me.  No  one  has  ever  clung  to  me 
before." 

For  a  moment  she  remained  silent,  and  then  she  held 
out  her  hand  and  said : 

"  I  like  you.  Even  if  there  had  been  no  memory  of 
our  search  for  Marie  Louise  to  bind  us  together,  I 
should  have  felt  a  bond.  So  when  you  return,  I  shall 
not  be  sorry.  If  you  bring  any  one  with  you,  I  shall 
not  be  angry.  Do  as  you  please.  I  will  be  ready  for 
you." 

"  Is  that  a  promise?  "  Gertrude  Linton  asked. 

"  Yes,  it's  a  promise,"  Tarnar  said,  nodding  her  head. 
"  And  it's  a  tribute  to  your  disinterestedness." 

"  You've  got  a  bee  in  your  bonnet  about  disinterest- 
edness," Gertrude  Linton  said. 

"  I  think  I  have,"  Tamar  agreed.  "  I  rather  wish  I 
hadn't.  It  perplexes  me." 

"  Well,  let  it  perplex  you  to  the  tune  of  several  good 
round  sums,"  was  Gertrude  Linton's  parting  shot. 

Alone,  Tamar  repeated  her  words  with  an  amused 
smile  on  her  face. 

"  A  splendid  idea,"  she  said,  "  from  some  one  who  has 
not  to  find  those  good  round  sums  !  " 

But  the  words  and  the  thoughts  they  suggested, 
haunted  her,  and  for  some  time  after  Gertrude  Linton 
had  gone,  Tamar  leaned  over  the  counter,  as  was  her 
wont  when  concentrating  on  some  difficult  problem. 
Finally  she  took  from  a  drawer  the  book  in  which  she 
kept  the  details  of  her  investments,  and  studied  them 
carefully.  At  intervals  she  shook  her  head,  as  if  decid- 
ing that  no  good  round  sums  could  be  raised  from  these 
sources,  as  selling  prices  were  going  steadily  down.  In 
the  midst  of  her  investigations  Bramfield  arrived  with  a 


156      WHERE  YOUR  HEART  IS 

case  containing  the  Dutch  nefs  and  the  other  silver 
pieces,  which  had  been  sent  to  his  place  of  business  in 
Hatton  Garden.  There  was  a  twinkle  in  his  eye  and  a 
look  of  mischief  on  his  face,  and  he  was  evidently  enjoy- 
ing a  huge  joke.  Bramfield  always  looked  handsome 
and  attractive,  but  when  his  countenance  was  lit  up  by 
even  a  suspicion  of  fun,  it  would  have  been  impossible  to 
find  any  face  more  delightful  to  behold,  more  winning, 
more  reassuring  —  reassuring  because  there  was  a  cer- 
tain statuesque  quality  in  his  features,  which  at  times 
lent  him  an  aloofness  totally  at  variance  with  his  nat- 
ural character. 

"  Tamar,"  he  said,  "  here  are  your  nefs  and  the  other 
things.  I've  carried  out  your  wishes  and  had  an  inde- 
pendent opinion  about  that  stone  in  the  crow's-nest. 
Sorry  to  have  to  inform  you  that  it  isn't  a  valuable 
emerald !  See  now,  here  it  is  out  of  its  setting,  and  very 
different  it  looks.  It's  just  a  reconstructed  emerald  — 
rather  a  good  one.  But  you've  made  a  mistake  this 
time,  you  jolly  well  have!  The  old  Dutch  woman  got 
her  bargain  —  and  T.  Scott  has  been  left.  I  really 
can't  help  laughing.  It  strikes  me  as  being  exceedingly 
funny  that  the  great  Tamar,  dealer  in  antique  jewellery 
and  precious  stones,  and  an  expert  in  emeralds,  her 
birth-stone,  should  have  been  left !  I  think  the  schaper- 
kaas  and  pekel-haring  must  have  affected  your  brain !  " 

For  the  life  of  him,  he  could  not  help  teasing  her  about 
her  error  in  judgment,  though  he  might  have  been 
warned  of  the  consequences  by  the  ominous  frown  deep- 
ening on  Tamar's  face.  But  he  was  so  amused  that  he 
thoroughly  let  himself  go,  and  chuckled  over  the  situa- 
tion. He  had  placed  all  the  silver  on  the  counter,  but. 
he  retained  the  stone  in  the  palm  of  his  hand. 


WHERE  YOUR  HEART  IS      157 

"  Reconstructed,  T.  Scott,"  he  repeated.  "  Recon- 
structed. And  to  think  that  you  of  all  people  were 
misled  —  you  who  have  never  made  a  mistake  about  an 
emerald." 

Her  face  flushed  to  a  crimson  from  rage  and  disap- 
pointment as  she  snatched  the  stone  from  him,  stared  at 
it  in  silence  and  then  disappeared  into  the  inner  room 
to  use  her  magnifj'ing  glass  and  apply  her  own  special 
tests.  She  returned,  looking  like  a  tigress  at  bay. 

"  It  has  been  changed,"  she  exclaimed  fiercely. 
"  The  stone  I  saw  had  every  appearance  of  being  a  real 
emerald,  and  a  specially  fine  one.  This  is  obviously  re- 
constructed. An}T  fool  could  see  that.  It  has  been 
changed.  Perhaps  you've  changed  it  yourself  to  spite 
me  —  to  rob  me." 

And  then  a  curious  thing  happened.  Bramfield,  for 
years  a  patient,  devoted  friend  who  had  never  failed 
her,  always  put  up  with  her  sullenness  and  sulkiness, 
never  taken  umbrage  at  her  many  varying  moods,  and 
always  made  excuses  for  her,  both  to  himself  and  other 
people  who  were  criticizing,  condemning  her,  turned  on 
her. 

"  You  mean-spirited,  contemptible  woman,"  he  ex- 
claimed, snatching  up  his  hat.  "  Why  does  one  ever 
trouble  about  you?  You're  not  worth  a  thought.  You 
deserve  to  be  left  friendless  —  and  that's  what  will  hap- 
pen to  you  —  mark  my  words." 

Bramfield,  the  beautiful,  the  chivalrous,  fled  from  the 
shop,  his  face  distorted  with  anger. 

Tamar's  own  rage  died  down  as  quickly  as  it  had 
sprung  to  life.  Her  eyes  closed  and  opened,  and  closed 
and  opened  again,  as  if  she  were  not  sure  of  what  had 
happened  —  so  great  was  her  surprise,  so  entire  the 


158      WHERE  YOUR  HEART  IS 

shock  to  her  nerves  that  he  should  have  turned  on  her. 
It  had  all  passed  so  quickly  that  she  scarcely  knew  why 
or  how  it  had  happened. 

These  many  years  she  had  been  accustomed  and  privi- 
leged to  do  and  say  all  the  rudenesses  she  pleased,  to 
give  way  to  her  temper,  her  suspiciousness,  her  every 
mood.  And  now  she  had  been  tripped  up.  Some  one 
had  called  her  by  an  ugly  name,  told  her  what  he 
thought  of  her,  how  worthless,  how  negligible.  And 
that  some  one  was  Bramfield.  It  was  incredible,  un- 
bearable that  she  should  have  alienated  him  —  and  be- 
cause of  a  petty,  paltry,  reconstructed  emerald.  It  did 
cross  her  mind  that  any  quarrel  might  have  been  worth 
while  over  a  real  emerald  —  but  certainly  a  recon- 
structed one  did  not  warrant  the  flinging  aside  of  an  old 
friendship  —  no,  indeed  it  did  not.  But  to  do  her  jus- 
tice, this  thought  of  what  was  worth  while  and  what 
wasn't,  only  flashed  across  her  mind  and  was  gone. 
What  remained,  was  real  concern  for  what  she  had  done, 
real  contrition,  and  a  deep  sense  of  disappointment  and 
loneliness. 

For  she  had  been  counting  on  his  coming.  She  missed 
his  constant  companionship.  She  had  learnt  to  value 
and  appreciate  him  tenfold  more  in  those  three  weeks  of 
intimate,  everyday  life.  His  protective  rebuke  of  her 
avaricious  impulse  had  touched  her  to  the  core.  His 
tender  understanding  of  her  shame  had  chastened  her. 
His  healing  kindness  had  upheld  her. 

He  had  only  had  time  to  run  in  once  or  twice  for  a 
few  minutes  since  their  return,  and  she  wanted  sorely  to 
talk  with  him  over  all  their  experiences  together,  to  hear 
about  the  Belgian  lady  whom  he  had  taken  safely  to  her 
friends  in  Ealing,  to  tell  him  about  Marie  Louise,  and 


WHERE  YOUR  HEART  IS      159 

discuss  with  him  all  those  hundred  and  one  details  which 
those  who  have  taken  a  journey  together  and  had  thrill- 
ing adventures,  hunger  to  browse  on  in  each  other's 
company.  And  instead,  she  was  alone  —  Mary  Louise 
gone  —  Miss  Linton  gone  —  Bramfield  gone.  And  the 
loneliness  brought  about  entirely  by  her  own  fault. 

Why  could  she  not  have  accepted  her  defeat  over  the 
emerald  in  a  sporting  spirit,  and  why  could  she  not 
have  been  good-natured  over  his  triumphant  teasing? 
She  had  liked  him  to  tease  her  in  Rotterdam.  She  had 
liked  it  increasingly.  And  after  all,  though  she  had 
allowed  Weduwe  Maas  to  overreach  her  because  she  be- 
lieved that  she  herself  was  scoring  in  the  long  run,  she 
had  only  paid  a  very  few  more  pounds  than  the  market 
value  of  the  Dutch  nef.  A  very  few  more.  That  was 
annoying,  of  course,  and  still  more  annoying  was  the 
fact  of  her  mistake  —  a  wound  to  her  professional  pride 
and  expert  knowledge.  But  what  counted  most  and 
hurt  most,  was  her  insult  to  Bramfield,  and  his  retort  to 
her,  scathing  and  ruthless,  but  deserved. 

"  I've  deserved  it,  Bramfield,"  she  said  aloud,  "  and 
your  words  will  probably  come  true.  I  shall  be  left 
friendless.  That  will  be  the  end  of  me." 

Then  she  tried  to  comfort  herself. 

"  Perhaps  he  will  return,"  she  thought.  "  Surely 
he'll  return.  It's  unlike  him  to  be  unkind." 

She  longed  to  see  him  come  into  the  shop,  to  hear  his 
voice,  to  feel  his  presence,  to  ask  his  pardon.  In  her 
remorse,  in  her  recognition  of  her  ingratitude,  Tamar 
came  far  nearer  to  loving  Bramfield  than  at  any  other 
moment  in  the  course  of  their  long  friendship.  And 
the  irony  of  life  contrived  that  at  the  very  hour  when 
she  advanced  towards  that  enchanted  ground  where 


160      WHERE  YOUR  HEART  IS 

hearts  meet  and  souls  are  knit,  Bramfield  who  had  lin- 
gered there  for  years  in  hope  and  yearning,  receded. 

But  Tamar  was  not  destined  to  pass  the  whole  day 
without  comfort,  little  though  she  deserved  it.  Out  of 
the  leaden  sky  broke  a  bright  flash  of  sunshine.  Some 
time  in  the  afternoon,  into  the  shop  tumbled  Tom 
Thornton,  bringing  with  him  healing  breezes  of  youth- 
fulness  and  gaiety. 

"  Hullo,"  he  sang  out,  as  he  nearly  wrung  her  arm 
off.  "  I'm  glad  you're  back  in  your  own  dug-out.  I'm 
not  half  pleased  to  see  you  again !  Marion  and  I  called 
here  the  other  day  and  found  some  snuffy  old  commis- 
sionaire in  charge  who  seemed  to  think  we'd  come  to 
burgle.  Such  a  lot  of  .icws  to  tell  you.  More  jewels 
been  found  in  another  dummy  book  —  the  '  Satires  of 
Juvenal '  this  time.  Great,  isn't  it?  Clever  of  the  Gov- 
ernor to  pitch  on  books  which  he  knew  we  would  never 
have  touched  at  the  end  of  a  pair  of  tongs !  Also,  the 
monk  ghost  has  turned  up  at  Marton  Grange,  looking  in 
at  the  window  of  the  library  as  usual.  Also,  we're 
established  as  a  family  in  a  flat  in  Russell  Square. 
Also,  I  haven't  passed  all  my  examinations.  Have  been 
put  back  for  map  reading.  I'm  not  down-hearted. 
But  you  are,  aren't  you?  What's  up?" 

"  Nothing's  up,"  she  answered,  forcing  a  smile. 
"  Except  that  I've  mistaken  a  reconstructed  emerald  for 
a  real  one." 

Tom  whistled. 

"  Have  you  been  '  done,'  then,  and  lost  a  whole  pot  of 
money?  "  he  asked. 

Taraar's  proper  answer  should  have  been : 

"  No,  but  I  failed  to  *  do  '  some  one  else !  " 


WHERE  YOUR  HEART  IS  161 

Instead,  she  answered: 

"  No,  but  I  took  a  sporting  chance  on  something  — 
and  lost." 

"  Never  mind,"  he  said.  "  Buck  up.  I'll  ferret  out 
an  emerald  or  two  for  you.  I  expect  we  shall  soon  find 
some  more  knocking  about  in  a  soap-box,  or  in  the 
kitchen  flue." 

Tamar  laughed.     Tom's  cheerfulness  was  infectious. 

"  Now,  would  you  believe  it?  "  he  went  on.  "  Wini- 
fred rather  wanted  to  persuade  the  Mater  to  let  Marton 
Grange.  Rupert  wouldn't  hear  of  it.  He  loves  that 
old  place.  Did  you  ever  hear  anything  so  footling? 
Why,  we  may  have  jewels  turning  up  any  old  where. 
Anyway,  we're  not  going  to  let  the  house.  And  the 
Mater  will  probably  sneak  back  there  as  soon  as  we  let 
her.  She  feels  rather  strange  in  London,  you  know, 
though  she  pretends  to  like  Russell  Square  for  our 
sakes." 

Then  he  went  on  to  say  that  what  he  had  really  come 
for,  was  to  fetch  her  back  to  their  flat.  They  wanted 
her  to  tell  them  about  their  new  find,  and  they  all 
wanted  to  see  her  and  hear  how  she  had  been  getting 
on  in  Holland.  So  couldn't  she  just  put  on  her  things 
and  come  along  at  once?  He  and  two  friends  had  got 
leave  till  to-morrow,  and  so  he  wouldn't  have  to  hurry 
off  to  Oxford  that  night,  and  they  were  having  a  sort  of 
rally  of  a  few  intimates  to  celebrate  his  not  getting 
through  all  his  examinations,  and  to  give  Rupert's  girl, 
Dorothy  Hall,  a  send-off  before  she  rejoined  her  Am- 
bulance Corps  in  Belgium.  Wouldn't  Miss  Scott  come 
and  take  part? 

Tamar  consented,  for  his  arrival  had  braced  her  up, 
and  she  dreaded  the  loneliness  which  she  knew  would 


162  WHERE  YOUR  HEART  IS 

follow  on  his  departure.  As  she  went  upstairs  to  put 
on  her  coat,  leaving  Tom  in  charge  of  the  shop,  she 
could  not  help  smiling  to  think  how  she  was  gradually 
breaking  into  her  habits  of  years,  doing  things  which 
she  would  never  have  dreamed  of  doing  —  for  instance, 
leaving  a  comparative  stranger  alone  in  the  shop,  even 
for  five  minutes,  going  to  spend  the  evening  out  at  some 
one's  house,  and  turning  her  back  with  positive  relief  — 
that  was  the  amazing  part  of  it  —  with  positive  relief 
on  her  own  stronghold  and  her  treasures,  which  had  al- 
ways meant  so  much  more  to  her  than  mere  human 
beings.  As  a  babe,  she  had  been  rocked  amongst  them, 
as  a  child  she  had  played  with  them,  as  a  young  woman 
she  had  learnt  to  value  them  in  more  senses  than  one, 
and  as  a  middle-aged  woman  she  had  come  to  dote  on 
them  to  the  exclusion  of  everything  else  —  until  now. 
She  heard  Tom  whistling  downstairs.  She  heard  him 
calling  out: 

"  Cheerioh,  I'll  put  the  shutters  up  for  you." 
And  she  smiled.     Very  pleasant  and  comforting  that 
sounded. 

Tamar  found  quite  a  number  of  young  people  in  a 
large,  cosily-furnished  room.  They  were  laughing  and 
having  no  end  of  fun  when  she  and  Tom  entered. 
Marion,  in  a  pretty  drab  uniform,  with  a  light  blue 
collar  and  blue  shoulder-straps  marked  with  the  letters 
"  W.H.C.,"  made  a  dash  for  her.  Rupert  and  Dorothy 
Hall,  in  her  "  F.A.N.Y."  khaki,  followed  suit.  Wini- 
fred, in  a  dark  blue  uniform,  with  a  blue  armlet  marked 
"W.P.S."  (Women  Police  Service),  and  looking  every 
inch  an  authoritative  guardian  of  the  peace,  greeted  her 
with  less  effusion  but  decided  cordiality.  She  was  sa- 
luted by  a  young  New  Zealand  soldier  and  two  of  Tom's 


WHERE  YOUR  HEART  IS      163 

comrades  from  the  Military  School  of  Aeronautics  at 
Oxford.  A  tall  girl,  also  in  khaki,  with  the  shining 
brass  letters  "  W.V.R."  on  her  shoulders  and  evidentl}' 
an  officer  in  rank,  nodded  to  her  in  a  friendly  fashion. 
Two  other  girls  not  in  uniform,  and  a  Red  Cross  nurse, 
completed  the  number.  She  thought  at  first  that  she 
was  going  to  feel  embarrassed  amongst  all  these  young 
creatures;  but  they  did  not  give  her  a  chance  to  be 
uncomfortable,  and  accepted  her  immediately  as  one  of 
themselves. 

"  Great  evening,  this,"  Dorothy  said,  "  Tom  not 
passing  all  his  examinations  at  first  shot !  " 

"  Great  evening,  this,"  returned  Tom,  "  Dorothy  re- 
turning to  Belgium  to  drive  the  poor  unfortunate 
wounded  Belgian  soldiers.  Glad  I'm  not  a  wounded 
Belgian !  " 

"  Rough  luck  on  me,  having  to  part  from  her,  isn't 
it?  "  said  Rupert.  "  But  I've  got  to  make  the  best  of 
it,  as  the  women  do  when  we  go  off.  There  doesn't  seem 
much  chance  of  our  having  the  one  and  only  home  yet." 

"  Perhaps  it's  as  well,  old  thing,"  said  Tom.  "  Just 
as  well  to  postpone  the  failure  a  little  while.  Give  you 
time  to  finish  the  Governor's  book  on  archaeology,  and 
Dorothy  to  spill  a  few  more  Belgians  out  of  her  ambu- 
lance." 

"  It  isn't  really  true  that  he  has  passed  all  his  exami- 
nations except  aerial  observation,  is  it?"  asked  Doro- 
thy of  Tom's  comrades.  "  The  Royal  Flying  Corps 
must  be  wanting  officers  badly  and  quickly !  " 

There  was  a  chorus  of  laughter  in  which  Tom  joined, 
and  in  the  middle  Mrs.  Thornton  came  in,  and  wanted 
to  take  Tamar  away  with  her  to  examine  the  stones  in 
private.  But  Tom  protested. 


164      WHERE  YOUR  HEART  IS 

"No,  Mater,"  he  said,  "don't  go  away.  I'll  fetch 
the  old  dummy  book,  and  then  we  can  all  have  the  fun 
of  hearing  Miss  Scott  pronounce  judgment.  It  will  be 
rather  amusing.  You  won't  mind  having  an  audience, 
Miss  Scott?" 

"  No,  I  wouldn't  mind,  but  I  think  your  mother 
would,"  Tamar  said  quietly. 

"  Don't  press  it,  Tom  dear,"  Marion  whispered. 
'*  Mother  wants  to  be  alone.  She'll  be  sure  to  feel 
rather  wretched,  you  know." 

He  nodded. 

"  Of  course,"  he  said,  "  what  a  fool  I  am.  I'd  for- 
gotten the  cambric  handkerchief." 

So  Mrs.  Thornton  bore  Tamar  off  to  the  privacy  of 
her  own  room,  and  shut  the  door. 

She  turned  to  Tamar,  and  with  a  tender  little  smile 
said: 

"  Neither  Tom,  bless  him,  nor  indeed  any  one  of  my 
young  people  quite  realizes  that  all  the  circumstances 
connected  with  the  finding  of  these  jewels  are  still  very 
painful  to  me.  I  do  not  mean  to  pretend  that  I  have 
not  been  exceedingly  glad  that  my  poor  husband  col- 
lected them,  and  that  we  therefore  were  left  in  far  better 
circumstances.  But  that  he  kept  them  hidden  from  us, 
remains  and  always  will  remain  a  grief  to  me." 

Tamar  nodded  her  head  in  silence. 

"  But  for  you,"  continued  Mrs.  Thornton,  "  I  do  not 
know  what  I  should  have  done.  The  wonderful  way  in 
which  you  interpreted  his  mind  and  its  workings  has 
comforted  me  more  than  I  can  ever  say.  I  shall  always 
be  grateful  to  you,  dear  Miss  Scott,  for  understand- 
ing —  and  helping  me  to  understand." 

"  There  is  nothing  to  be  grateful  for,"  Tamar  said 


WHERE  YOUR  HEART  IS      165 

kindly.  "  It  has  just  been  a  coincidence  that  the  per- 
son who  came  to  value  the  stones,  happened  to  have  the 
same  sort  of  —  well,  shall  I  say  almost  mad  passion  for 
them  that  your  husband  had.  If  you  try  to  remember 
that  it  was  an  obsession,  a  passion,  you  will  not  suffer  so 
much,  because  you  will  realize  afresh  that  it  was  some- 
thing altogether  outside  himself.  You  don't  suffer  as 
much  as  you  did  at  first,  I  hope?  " 

"  No,"  she  said,  but  even  as  she  spoke  there  seemed  to 
be  a  possibility  that  the  cambric  handkerchief  might 
have  to  be  produced. 

But  the  danger  passed,  and  she  was  able  to  continue: 

"  And  then,  of  course,  I  have  the  great  joy  of  seeing 
the  young  people  happy  and  of  being  able  to  give  them 
the  chances  they  wanted  —  and  the  freedom.  I  want 
them  to  be  free,  and  feel  free.  Whatever  they  are  do- 
ing, this  flat  will  at  least  be  a  rallying-place  for  them 
all,  But  I  tell  you,  as  a  secret,  that  I  do  not  really 
care  to  be  here.  I  shall  be  glad  soon  to  creep  back  to 
Marton  Grange  —  to  my  old  life  and  my  memories. 
No,  I  do  not  suffer  so  much,  but  I  owe  this  to  you. 
And  now  again,  as  before,  your  presence  and  your  ex- 
planation reassure  me.  Do  you  remember  what  I  said 
before :  '  Something  lost  recovered  '?  Well,  again  I 
say  it:  '  Something  lost  recovered.' ' 

"  Strange  that  I  should  be  able  to  comfort  any  one," 
Tamar  said,  half  to  herself. 

"  Oh,  no,  surely  not  strange,"  Mrs.  Thornton  said, 
"  you,  with  your  kind  nature." 

Tamar  winced. 

"  Kind  nature  ? "  she  repeated,  almost  roughly. 
"  Why,  I'm  a  brute,  if  you  only  knew  —  grasping,  suspi- 
cious, hard  as  nails,  dis  .  .  ." 


166      WHERE  YOUR  HEART  IS 

"  Hush,  hush,"  interrupted  Mrs.  Thornton.  "  I 
won't  hear  such  things  of  you.  Whatever  you  are, 
you've  not  been  that  to  us." 

"But  I  have,"  Tamar  insisted,  half  defiantly.  "I 
was  grasping  about  the  pearls.  Didn't  Mr.  Rupert  tell 
you?" 

Mrs.  Thornton  shook  her  head. 

"  He  told  me  you  wanted  them,"  she  said,  "  and  that 
we  were  to  keep  them  back  indefinitely  until  you  cared  to 
buy  them.  That  doesn't  sound  very  grasping,  does  it  ?  " 

Tamar  was  silent.  In  her  silence  she  thanked  Rupert 
for  his  second  act  of  chivalry. 

"  The  children  think  no  end  of  you,"  Mrs.  Thornton 
went  on.  "  All  of  them.  I  only  hope  they  will  not  be 
a  worry  to  you ;  but  they  do  seem  to  think  they  have  a 
right  to  come  to  Dean  Street !  You  must  shut  the  door 
on  them  if  they  trouble  you." 

"  They  have  a  right,"  Tamar  said.  "  And  the  door 
shall  never  be  shut  on  them." 

"  You  see,"  Mrs.  Thornton  said,  "  when  you  came  to 
us  that  memorable  day,  you  established  a  relationship 
with  us  all  because  you  brought  good  news,  and  also  be- 
cause you  were  able  to  explain  —  and  to  heal.  You 
wouldn't  think  Tom  needed  healing.  Yet  in  his  way  he 
had  the  same  feeling  of  having  been  shut  out  —  and 
Marion  had  it  and  Winifred  and  Rupert." 

She  was  silent  a  moment,  as  if  lost  in  thought.  It 
was  still  evident  that  no  precious  stones  would  ever  com- 
pensate her  for  the  discovery  of  that  barrier  which  her 
husband  had  set  up  against  his  wife  and  children  and 
the  whole  world.  Then,  as  if  with  reluctance,  she 
opened  a  drawer  of  the  bureau  and  took  out  a  box  in 
the  form  of  a  dummy  book,  which  had  the  words, 


WHERE  YOUR  HEART  IS      167 

*'  Satires  of  Juvenal,"  on  its  back.  She  placed  it  with- 
out a  word  in  Tamar's  hands.  Tamar  glanced  at  the 
book-box  with  curious  interest.  It  passed  through  her 
mind  that  Mr.  Thornton  had  indeed  been  a  strange  man, 
but  not  stranger  than  some  of  the  extraordinary  char- 
acters with  whom  in  the  course  of  her  business  she  had 
come  in  contact. 

She  raised  the  lid  and  set  about  examining  the  stones. 
Mrs.  Thornton  stared  fixedly  into  the  fire.  Not  once 
did  she  ask  a  question,  nor  show  any  interest. 

There  were  a  few  tourmalines  and  topazes,  and  two 
reconstructed  emeralds  which  gave  Tamar  a  shudder; 
but  most  of  the  stones  were  semi-precious,  such  as  azur- 
ite,  lapis-lazuli,  jargoon,  iolite,  zircon,  and  others,  truly 
beautiful,  and  interesting  scientifically,  but  not  of  great 
value  from  a  gem  dealer's  point  of  view,  so  Tamar  told 
her.  Mrs.  Thornton  did  not  seem  in  the  least  disap- 
pointed by  the  verdict,  but  merely  replaced  the  box  in 
the  drawer,  took  up  her  knitting,  and  said : 

"  And  now  let  us  join  the  young  people  again." 

But  Tamar  detained  her. 

"  Do  you  know,"  she  said,  "  I  am  glad  that  little  col- 
lection has  been  found,  Mrs.  Thornton.  And  do  you 
know  why  ?  " 

Mrs.  Thornton  shook  her  head. 

"  Do  you  not  see,"  Tamar  said  slowly,  "  that  your 
husband's  habit  of  hiding  away  his  stones  was  not  based 
on  any  desire  to  keep  things  of  value  from  your  knowl- 
edge, but  that  his  obsession  demanded  an  entire  secrecy? 
And  so  these  comparatively  valueless  stones  were  hid- 
den away  with  precisely  the  same  care  and  craft  as  the 
rubies  and  sapphires  and  emeralds  which  have  realized 
a  fortune  for  you.  I  believe  it  was  an  obsession  which 


168      WHERE  YOUR  HEART  IS 

was  entirely  without  any  plan  of  imkindness.     That  is 
how  it  seems  to  me." 

"  I  will  remember,"  Mrs.  Thornton  said,  as  she  put 
her  hand  on  Tamar's  arm.  There  was  something  pa- 
thetic in  her  entire  confidence  in  Tamar's  words  and 
Tamar's  estimate  of  her  husband's  character.  It  was 
as  if  she  had  found  in  the  darkness  of  her  distress  an 
unexpected  straw  at  which  she  had  clutched  and  to 
which  she  would  always  want  to  cling  for  safety  and 
guidance. 

None  of  the  family  seemed  disappointed  when  they 
heard  the  news  that  the  "  Satires  of  Juvenal  "  had 
yielded  up  no  plunder  worthy  of  the  name.  Winifred 
who  had  found  the  box,  said  that  she  was  rather  re- 
lieved to  learn  that  the  contents  were  not  valuable. 
She  thought  they  had  quite  enough.  Marion  who,  like 
her  mother,  was  still  sensitive  about  Mr.  Thornton's 
strange  secrecy,  made  no  remark.  Tom  said: 

"  The  more  the  merrier.  But  if  not  more,  then  not 
less  merry." 

Rupert,  who  having  studied  Tamar's  book  more  care- 
fully, was  beginning  to  think  himself  quite  an  expert 
and  give  himself  professional  airs,  said : 

"  It  is  not  a  surprise  to  me.  I  knew  at  once  that  the 
stones  in  that  box  were  not  valuable." 

Tamar  was  greatly  amused  and  had  a  secret  laugh 
over  the  wise,  expert  expression  on  his  face. 

Tom  inquired  of  her  on  the  quiet  how  his  mother  had 
borne  the  interview. 

"I  hope  no  sign  of  the  cambric  handkerchief?"  he 
asked. 

"  A  faint  sign,"  reported  Tamar,  "  which  she  sup- 


WHERE  YOUR  HEART  IS      169 

pressed  very  bravely,  Mr.  Tom.  But  I  think  she  suf- 
fers. You  must  look  after  her." 

She  watched  him  after  that  drop  down  on  the  sofa  by 
his  mother's  side  and  work  hard  to  bring  a  smile  into 
her  face.  He  teased  her  about  the  size  of  the  socks  she 
was  knitting  for  the  mine-sweepers  and  men  of  the  Navy, 
and  asked  whether  they  were  intended  for  socks  or 
sleeping-bags,  or  whether  it  was  some  new  pattern  she 
had  invented  to  serve  both  purposes.  Hadn't  she  bet- 
ter take  out  a  patent  for  it  and  submit  it  to  the  Govern- 
ment to  be  ignommiously  rejected,  and  immediately 
accepted  by  the  French  or  any  of  our  Allies  —  nay, 
perhaps  annexed  by  the  Germans  themselves  through 
some  of  the  uninterned  Germans  enjoying  themselves 
comfortably  on  our  hospitable  shores.  So  he  rattled 
on,  and  did  not  relax  his  efforts  until  the  cloud  had 
cleared  from  her  face. 

Rupert  asked  Tamar  to  tell  them  about  her  adven- 
tures in  Holland.  She  gave  a  brief,  a  very  brief  ac- 
count of  the  refugees,  the  American  Relief  Ships,  the 
escaped  French  prisoners  on  board  and  the  spies ;  and 
she  told  them  a  few  of  the  stories  she  had  heard  of  the 
behaviour  of  the  Germans  in  Belgium. 

"  My  God,"  one  of  the  flying  cadets  said  with  a  shud- 
der, "  suppose  it  was  our  country." 

But  on  the  whole,  they  seemed  more  interested  in  the 
fact  that  she  had  been  down  in  a  submarine.  No  one 
present  had  been  in  a  submarine,  and  her  experience  in 
that  direction  elicited  an  amount  of  interest  and  respect 
which  the  most  thrilling  story  about  refugees  would 
have  failed  to  arouse  in  their  minds !  'It  struck  Tamar 
how  little  the  events  of  the  war  were  touching  the  people 
in  England. 


170      WHERE  YOUR  HEART  IS 

They  soon  plunged  into  their  own  immediate  con- 
cerns, and  she  was  glad  enough  to  listen  to  their  talk 
and  discussions,  and  to  ask  them  a  few  questions  about 
what  they  were  all  doing.  They  interested  her  enor- 
mously, and  presented  to  her  a  new  world  of  which  she 
had  hitherto  been  entirely  ignorant.  In  spite  of  all 
their  chaff  of  each  other,  their  fun  and  joyous  irrespon- 
sibility, it  was  quite  clear  that  they  all  knew  what  they 
intended  to  do,  and  had  very  definite  ideas  about  their 
capabilities,  their  usefulness,  and  the  parts  they  would 
be  called  upon  to  play,  if  not  now,  then  sooner  or  later. 
A  regular  "  churn  up  "  was  going  on,  so  they  put  it, 
and  there  were  going  to  be  all  sorts  of  changes. 

Winifred  was  very  emphatic  on  this  point.  She  was 
in  good  spirits  about  the  outlook  for  the  Women  Police 
Service,  for  there  was  a  rumour  in  her  set  that  women 
police  were  going  to  be  posted  in  some  of  the  munition 
factories,  where  already  large  numbers  of  girls  were 
working  in  the  manufacture  of  some  of  the  most  dan- 
gerous explosives  demanded  by  the  war.  She  was  keen 
about  the  need  for  trained  and  educated  police-women, 
and  quite  certain  from  her  own  experiences  in  patrolling 
the  streets  and  public  parks  and  neighbourhoods  of 
camps,  that  the  work  of  their  corps  would  prove  to  be 
of  real  assistance  in  this  time  of  upheaval.  So  far.  she 
said,  they  had  had  discouragement  from  the  Govern- 
ment, but  great  encouragement  from  private  societies 
and  municipal  authorities  and  watch  committees.  She 
explained  to  Tamar  that  they  had  to  have  a  very  high 
standard  of  training,  not  only  in  the  technique  of  public 
work,  but  in  discretion  and  wisdom  of  action.  Train- 
ing alone  saved  them  from  tactless  mistakes.  The 


WHERE  YOUR  HEART  IS      171 

training  included  drill,  attendance  at  police  courts,  first 
aid,  lectures  in  civil  and  criminal  law  —  especially  those 
Acts  relating  to  women  and  children,  patrolling  and 
domiciliary  visiting.  Two  or  three  of  the  boroughs  in 
London  and  several  in  the  provinces  were  already  em- 
ploying women  constables,  their  salaries  being  paid  for 
by  public  subscription.  She  herself  had  been  in  Bir- 
mingham, but  was  now  stationed  in  London.  She  was 
now  a  sub-inspector  and  very  proud  of  her  promotion, 
and  exceedingly  enthusiastic  about  her  commandant. 
Tamar  thought  it  would  be  impossible  to  find  any  one 
more  suited  to  her  job  than  this  clear-faced,  blue-eyed, 
calm  young  woman,  with  a  quiet  manner  giving  a  dis- 
tinct impression  of  resourceful  reliability  —  an  asset  in 
itself  —  and  a  real  passion  for  social  reform.  She 
seemed  as  much  born  for  this  vocation  as  the  flying 
boys  for  theirs,  with  the  right  physique  and  the  right 
outlook. 

The  flying  boys  talked  chiefly  about  flying,  and  the 
exploits  of  some  of  the  famous  airmen  at  the  Front. 
Tamar,  hearing  what  these  young  fellows  were  expected 
to  learn  and  digest  in  their  six  or  seven  weeks'  course  at 
their  School  of  Instruction,  looked  upon  them  with 
added  wonder.  How  they  could  swallow  engines,  rig- 
ging, theory  of  flight,  cross-country  flying,  wireless, 
map-reading,  meteorology,  construction  of  bombs  and 
machine  guns,  aerial  photography  and  countless  other 
subjects  —  and  yet  be  alive  —  very  much  alive,  filled 
her  with  amazement. 

"  Oh,  it's  nothing,"  said  Tom.  "  Extraordinarily 
easy  —  specially  when  you  don't  pass !  " 

The  New  Zealander  was  thrilled  at  being  in  London, 


172      WHERE  YOUR  HEART  IS 

and  could  only  speak  of  all  the  sights  he  had  been  see- 
ing—  Westminster  Abbey,  Saint  Paul's  Cathedral, 
Buckingham  Palace,  Hyde  Park,  the  Strand,  Piccadilly, 
and  the  Mansion  House,  Holborn  Bars,  the  Temple,  and 
all  the  old  buildings.  He  said  he  was  dead-set  on  old 
buildings. 

"  I  say,  old  chap,  you  really  ought  to  come  and  stay 
with  us  in  our  old  place  in  Yorkshire,"  Tom  said. 
"  About  three  or  four  centuries  old,  you  know,  and  with 
a  property  ghost  —  a  monk  who  comes  and  looks  in  at 
the  window  and  makes  faces  at  you.  And  a  bricked-up 
skeleton  for  all  we  know.  No  Colonial  ought  to  miss  it. 
The  finest  sensation  of  the  Motherland.  You  ought  to 
get  an  invitation  out  of  the  Mater." 

"  Yes,  you  ought,"  Mrs.  Thornton  said,  looking  up 
and  smiling  from  her  knitting. 

"  You  bet  I'll  come,  then,  the  first  chance  I  get," 
the  New  Zealander  said,  flushing  with  pleasure.  He 
was  but  one  of  the  thousands  of  Colonial  boys  who, 
a  little  lonely  and  homesick  in  the  Old  Country,  have 
brightened  up  at  the  prospect  of  a  bit  of  home  life 
offered  them. 

Marion  told  Tamar  a  few  details  about  the  St.  Ursula 
Military  Hospital  where  she  was  a  nursing  orderly. 
She  was  very  proud  of  the  hospital.  The  C.  O.,  she 
said,  the  Surgeon-in-Chief,  the  surgeons  and  doctors, 
the  bacteriologist,  the  radiographer,  the  oculist,  and  the 
whole  medical  staff  were  women.  With  the  exception  of 
the  Sergeant-Major  and  two  or  three  R.  A.  M.  C.  men 
who  were  going  shortly  to  the  Front,  women  only  were 
doing  the  work  of  the  hospital.  Miss  Scott  ought  to 
come  and  see  it  some  day.  She  would  be  interested. 
Wouldn't  she  come?  It  was  so  near  her  shop,  that  it 


WHERE r  YOUR  HEART  IS      173 

wouldn't  be  much  trouble  to  run  in  if  Marion  got  a  per- 
mit for  her.  Tamar,  who  had  a  tender  spot  in  her 
heart  for  Marion,  her  first  friend  amongst  the  Thornton 
children,  did  not  tell  her  that  she  had  not  the  least 
desire  to  visit  that,  or,  indeed,  any  hospital.  Illness 
was  not  in  her  line.  Like  many  others,  she  shrank  from 
it  and  was  rather  frightened  of  sick  people.  The  last 
thing  she  wanted  to  do  was  to  visit  wounded  soldiers. 
She  evaded  giving  a  promise,  and  murmured  something 
about  "  no  time  in  the  afternoon."  But  she  was  not  at 
all  prejudiced  against  women  doctors.  If  anything,  she 
was  in  favour  of  them ;  for  one  of  them,  a  distinguished 
member  of  her  profession,  had  come  to  Dean  Street  one 
day  and  bought  a  Limoges  enamel,  over  which  she  had 
been  very  easily  and  successfully  cheated. 

"  You  come  to  me  instead,"  she  said  to  Marion.  "  As 
you  are  so  near,  you  can  run  in  for  tea." 

It  was  whilst  Marion  was  telling  her  about  the  hos- 
pital that  Major  Currie,  the  dug-out  uncle  of  the  fam- 
ily, arrived  on  the  scene.  The  flying  boys  were  making 
the  statement  that  the  war  would  finally  be  decided  in 
the  air.  Major  Currie  entirely  disagreed,  and  treated 
their  remarks  with  patronizing  amusement.  He  vouch- 
safed a  few  arguments  which  were  listened  to  with  a 
bored  resignation  which  struck  Tamar  as  being  exceed- 
ingly funny.  Tom's  face  alone  was  a  study ;  he  leaned 
back,  digging  the  base  of  his  skull  into  the  back  of  his 
chair,  his  eyes  raised  to  the  ceiling,  and  his  mouth  open- 
ing and  shutting  slightly.  He  was  really  very  naughty, 
and  kept  on  murmuring: 

"  Old  blighter  —  old  blighter." 

"  Try  and  stick  it,"  Rupert  said  to  Tom  in  an  under- 
tone. "  He's  going  to  supper  with  another  old  dug-out 


174.  WHERE  YOUR  HEART  IS 

at  the  '  Carlton.'  I  heard  him  say  so.  He'll  soon  be 
off." 

"  All  right,"  replied  Tom  in  the  same  undertone. 
"  But  can't  you  get  Winifred  to  arrest  him  and  take 
him  off  at  once?  That's  what  I  want  to  know." 

Finally  the  Major  rose  to  go,  having  delivered  himself 
of  much  patronage  and  old-time  military  unwisdom. 
He  glanced  pleasantly  at  the  un-uniformed  girls,  one  of 
whom  was  doing  a  twelve-hours'  shift  at  a  canteen  for 
the  troops  at  Victoria  Station.  (Later,  she  worked  at 
a  munition  factory,  in  one  of  the  danger  departments.) 
The  other,  a  delightful  singer,  was  a  member  of  a  con- 
cert party  organized  for  the  entertainment  of  the  troops 
of  the  New  Army  now  training  in  England.  She  toured 
all  over  the  country,  grateful  to  offer  her  best  gift  to 
the  men  who  were  going  to  fight  for  her.  (Later,  much 
of  the  organizing  of  the  entertainments  for  our  soldiers 
in  France  passed  into  her  able  hands.)  On  her,  too,  the 
Major  deigned  to  bestow  his  benediction,  and  accepted 
the  Red  Cross  nurse  as  a  type  familiar  enough  not  to  be 
resented.  But  the  uniformed  maidens  he  evidently  dis- 
approved of  entirely,  and  he  singled  out  the  tall  khaki 
girl,  glared  at  her  and  said,  with  a  half  contemptuous 
little  smile  on  his  ruddy  face : 

"  And,  pray,  what  are  you?  " 

"  I'm  a  captain  in  the  Women's  Volunteer  Reserve," 
she  answered.  "  At  present  not  wanted  by  the  War 
Office,  but  preparing,  like  all  of  us  women,  for  the  future 
needs  of  the  country." 

"  My  dear  young  lady,  it's  very  kind  of  you,  I'm 
sure,"  he  said,  "  and  very  amusing  for  you,  I'm  sure  — 
but  very  unnecessary  —  entirely  unnecessary  and  some- 
what absurd." 


WHERE  YOUR  HEART  IS  175 

But  Captain  Ella  Lulworth,  who  had  been  a  suffra- 
gette in  those  far-off  days  before  the  war,  feared  neither 
man  nor  Major.  She  glared  at  him  a  moment,  and  then 
said  with  apparent  irrelevance: 

"  Have  you  ever  been  in  Germany,  sir?  " 

"  No,  I  cannot  say  I  have,"  he  answered  stiffly. 

"  I  thought  not,"  she  returned  benevolently.  "  Well, 
I  have,  for  five  years  —  in  a  German  school.  And  I 
know  how  they've  been  preparing  for  this  war,  and  edu- 
cating all  their  young  people  for  it.  We're  in  for  a 
long  affair,  sir,  and  all  of  us  will  be  wanted  —  men  and 
women,  too.  Wait  and  see,  sir.  For  all  you  know, 
when  you're  made  a  colonel,  I  may  have  the  honour  of 
being  your  adjutant." 

The  Major  beat  a  speedy  retreat  with  dignity,  but  in 
haste,  conscious  that  Captain  Ella  Lulworth  was  too 
much  for  him. 

"  Routed,  but  not  convinced,"  she  said,  laughing. 
"  Never  mind.  Time  will  show." 

Time  did  show.  The  Women's  Volunteer  Reserve, 
laughed  at  in  the  beginning,  was  but  the  very  gallant 
precursor  of  our  very  gallant  W.  A.  A.  Cs. 

After  Major  Currie  had  gone,  they  held  an  animated 
discussion  on  the  subject.  Tamar  was  greatly  inter- 
ested to  see  that  although  there  was  a  little  good- 
natured  chaff  about  this  question  of  women's  services, 
which  was  quite  new  to  her,  there  was  no  real  opposition 
on  the  part  of  the  young  men.  It  was  taken  for 
granted  by  them  all  that  this  was  a  "  churn  up,"  and 
everybody  was  "  in  it."  Tamar,  listening  to  them  all, 
felt  churned  up  herself,  arid  even  more  bewildered  than 
she  had  been  in  Holland.  When  they  fell  into  a  talk 
abou ,  politicians  and  crowned  heads,  the  rights  of  the 


176      WHERE  YOUR  HEART  IS 

people  and  war,  her  brain  fairly  reeled.  She  thought 
with  sudden  longing  of  the  precious  stones  in  her  safe, 
so  peaceful  and  unexacting  in  their  luscious  beauty. 
Some  of  the  company  maintained  that  war  was  neces- 
sary and  uplifting  and  purifying ;  but  Rupert  vowed  it 
was  nothing  of  the  sort. 

"  All  bosh,"  he  said.  "  It  appeals  to  our  most  bar- 
barous instincts.  When  we're  out  of  it,  the  only  thing 
to  do  is  to  forget  that  we've  been  murderous  brutes. 
That  we  can  forget  at  all  shows  that  whilst  we're  at  it, 
it  is  pure  madness  —  organized  madness,  and  we  recog- 
nize it  as  such  when  we're  sane." 

The  New  Zealander  took  the  view  that  it  was  alto- 
gether glorious. 

"  Nothing  glorious  in  it,"  Rupert  insisted.  "  Noth- 
ing" 

"  But  deeds  of  courage  are  glorious,  Rupe,"  Marion 
said.  And  although  she  would  not  have  dared  to  refer 
to  it,  she  thought  of  his  own  fine  record  and  the  Mili- 
tary Medal  lying  in  his  drawer. 

"  Deeds  of  courage  in  peace  are  every  bit  as  fine  as 
in  war,"  he  answered.  "  And  even  finer.  For  in  peace 
there  is  no  incentive,  no  excitement  to  egg  one  on." 

Winifred  asked  Tamar  what  she  thought  about  war. 

Tamar  looked  dazed  by  the  question,  but  gathered 
her  wits  together. 

"  I  have  no  views,"  she  said,  "  and  I've  never  thought 
about  war  at  all.  When  this  war  started,  it  meant 
nothing  to  me.  But  since  I've  seen  something  of  the 
misery  of  a  stricken  nation,  I  have  begun  to  wonder 
at  the  madness. of  statesmen  and  the  stupidity  of  peo- 
ples." 

"  Then  you'd  have  them  rise  and  rebel  and  refuse  to 


,     WHERE 'YOUR  HEART  IS  177 

fight?  "  Winifred  asked.  "  That  would  be  all  very  well 
if  you  could  get  all  the  people  of  all  the  nations  to  act  in 
concert.  But  they  never  would.  That's  the  trouble." 

"  It's  the  only  solution,"  Rupert  said.  "  The  peo- 
ples of  the  world  solid  against  the  politicians  and 
crowned  heads  of  the  world  until  there  are  no  crowned 
heads  and  no  politicians  left  —  and  no  wars." 

"  That  won't  be  in  our  time,"  Winifred  said. 

"  Nor  in  anybody's  time,"  said  one  of  the  flying  boys. 

"  No  use  taking  any  notice  of  Rupert,"  remarked 
Tom.  "  We  all  know  he  has  been  a  shirker !  Come  on, 
Dorothy,  as  this  party  is  in  honour  of  you  and  me,  let's 
lead  the  way  in  to  supper.  There's  a  war  on,  no  doubt 
about  that.  And  supper  ought  to  be  on.  No  doubt 
about  that,  either.  Cheerioh !  " 

They  ended  by  seeing  Tamar  home.  She  heard  their 
young  voices  laughing  as  they  passed  up  the  street. 
She  listened  until  the  sound  had  died  away  in  the  dis- 
tance, and  then  she  sat  down  in  the  inner  room. 

Memories  of  the  evening  and  new  impressions  faded 
from  her  mind.  She  lived  over  again  that  pitiable  inter- 
view with  Bramfield,  realized  afresh  her  insult  to  him  and 
his  anger  with  her,  and  was  torn  with  contrition  for  the 
wound  she  had  inflicted  on  him  and  the  rage  roused  in 
him.  And  apart  from  her  own  remorse,  an  uneasy,  al- 
most frightened  presentiment  began  to  take  hold  of  her 
that  she  had  alienated  him  irretrievably,  driven  him  by 
her  own  deliberate  choice  from  her  door,  from  her  life. 

Then  it  was  that  Tamar  knew  that  life  was  unthink- 
able without  him,  and  that  the  impending  desolation 
would  be  more  than  she  could  bear.  For  he  had  always 
been  at  hand.  Never  could  she  say  she  was  alone  in 


178      WHERE  YOUR  HEART  IS 

this  world  as  long  as  Bramfield  lived  —  and  loved  her. 
And  now,  if  he  forsook  her,  she  would  be  alone,  left, 
stranded. 

In  her  despair  she  stretched  out  her  arms  to  him. 

"  Bramfield,  Bramfield,  forgive  me,"  she  cried. 


CHAPTER  XIII 

BUT  Bramfield  did  not  feel  in  the  least  inclined  to 
forgive.  He  kept  rigidly  away  from  Dean  Street, 
and  did  not  allow  himself  to  fall  back  on  the  excuse 
which  had  done  duty  on  many  other  occasions,  that  it 
was  only  T.  Scott,  only  one  of  her  ways,  and  no  one 
need  be  offended  or  take  umbrage  or  even  take  any  no- 
tice. On  the  contrary,  he  was  sorry  he  had  not  taken 
more  notice  and  told  her  a  few  more  unpleasant  truths 
and  possibilities  whilst  he  was  about  it.  He  reflected 
that  any  one  who  could  be  so  detestable  was  not  worth 
bothering  about,  and  that  he  must  make  up  his  mind  to 
give  her  a  wide  berth  and  transfer  to  another  direction 
some  of  the  thought  and  concern  he  had  been  in  the 
habit  of  bestowing  on  her  and  her  affairs.  For  in  busi- 
ness matters,  too,  Bramfield  had  always  kept  her  in 
remembrance.  He  had  put  many  good  chances  in  her 
way,  and  frequently  stepped  aside  so  that  she  might 
have  an  innings  instead  of  himself.  He  knew  that  she 
knew  this,  couldn't  fail  to  know  it,  and  had  freely  ac- 
knowledged her  indebtedness  to  him,  and  therefore  he 
did  not  seriously  believe  that  she  really  thought  he  had 
been  cheating  her  and  substituting  a  reconstructed 
emerald  for  a  genuine  one.  Her  outbreak  had  been 
caused  by  her  horrid,  suspicious  temper,  and  by  her 
annoyance  with  herself  for  having  been  proved  in  the 
wrong.  But  she  had  no  right  to  work  off  her  spleen  in 
that  detestable  fashion,  and  she  needed  a  lesson  —  and 
she  would  get  it. 

179 


180      WHERE  YOUR  HEART  IS 

"  If  she  writes  to  say  she  is  sorry,  I  shall  be  silent,"  he 
resolved. 

Yet  Bramfield  could  not  banish  her  from  his  mind. 
He  had  given  her  years  of  devotion  and  forbearance, 
and  apart  from  deeper  feelings,  habits,  especially  habits 
of  kindness,  often  more  sustaining  to  the  doer  of  kind 
acts  than  to  their  recipient,  are  not  easily  broken. 
Tamar  had  become  necessary  to  him ;  and  although  his 
life  was  full  of  interests  and  activities,  she  had  her  own 
citadel  in  his  heart  unassailable  even  by  her  worst  qual- 
ities. 

So  in  the  days  that  followed  their  angry  parting, 
though  she  remained  in  disgrace,  she  was  by  no  means 
forgotten  or  successfully  relegated  to  the  past.  Mem- 
ories of  her  stole  over  him  at  all  times,  in  all  places. 
He  heard  that  soft,  low  laugh  of  hers  when  she  was 
pleased  at  something.  Her  bright,  piercing  eyes,  her 
shapely  hands,  her  interesting  face,  vaguely  beautiful 
when  she  was  good,  and  strangely  arresting  when  she 
was  fierce,  pitiless  when  she  was  covetous,  transient 
with  idealism  when  she  was  kind,  haunted  Bramfield 
not  a  little.  And  she  could  be  kind  when  she  chose 
to  let  herself  go  —  and  not  only  with  money,  but  with 
personal  service.  But  she  had  always  carefully  con- 
cealed every  trace  of  kindness,  as  if  she  were  ashamed 
of  having  given  way  to  human  weakness.  Yet  he  had 
heard  of  deeds,  now  and  then,  which  had  rejoiced  his 
heart. 

And  she  was  changing,  developing  in  a  way  he  would 
not  have  thought  possible  a  few  months  ago.  He  had 
been  amazed  at  some  of  the  things  she  did  in  Holland, 
at  her  tenderness  to  the  little  Belgian  child,  at  her  in- 
terest in  the  work  which  was  being  carried  on  by  the 


WHERE  YOUR  HEART  IS 

strangers  he  presented  her  to,  at  her  companionableness, 
the  capabilities  of  which  he  had  never  realized.  Queer, 
strange,  repelling,  attracting  personality  that  she  was 
—  deserving  to  be  left  alone  and  abandoned  if  one  re- 
garded her  from  one  point  only  —  and  yet  presenting  a 
claim  on  one's  heart-hunger,  one's  love,  one's  habits 
of  patience  and  protectiveness. 

And  he  missed  her.  Angry  though  he  was,  he  would 
have  given  a  great  deal  to  see  her,  and  talk  over  all 
the  Rotterdam  happenings.  But  he  yielded  not  an  inch 
to  his  longings,  kept  to  his  resolve  bravely,  and  plunged 
into  his  many  concerns  with  an  increased  activity. 

Probably  he  would  not  have  been  able  to  sustain  tmV 
attitude  of  steadfast  rebellion  if  he  had  not  been  so  busy. 
But  apart  from  his  business  as  diamond  merchant, 
Bramfield  had  created  for  himself  many  demands  on  his 
time  and  strength.  His  only  child  Bruce,  who  had 
been  already  a  year  in  the  Army  on  the  declaration  of 
war,  was  a  source  of  great  pride  to  him  —  and  envy, 
for  he  was  passionately  patriotic  and  would  dearly  have 
valued  the  privilege  of  fighting  for  his  country.  But 
as  he  was  nearly  fifty-seven,  that  was  out  of  the  ques- 
tion. The  next  best  thing  was  having  a  son  who  was 
one  of  the  immortal  First  Hundred  Thousand.  But 
his  age  disability  did  not  prevent  him  from  trying  to 
join  up.  He  was,  of  course,  rejected,  and  in  company 
with  thousands  of  other  eager,  patriotic,  middle-aged 
men,  in  splendid  condition  and  of  a  fine  enthusiasm, 
made  clearly  to  understand  that  his  country  had  no 
need  for  them  in  any  capacity  whatsoever. 

But  he  was  not  one  of  those  who  in  consequence  of 
this  blighting  response  to  all  offers  of  service,  sank  into 
apathy  and  discouragement.  He  had  a  friend  in  the 


188      WHERE  YOUR  HEART  IS 

Traffic  Department  of  one  of  the  great  railway  systems, 
who  told  him  that  people  were  needed  at  the  stations 
to  receive  and  look  after  the  Belgian  refugees  who  were 
beginning  to  arrive  in  great  numbers.  Bramfield  went 
down  to  the  stations  night  after  night,  and  found  his 
friend  Gertrude  Linton  engaged  in  the  same  work.  It 
was  soon  seen  by  the  officials  of  the  London  Committee 
formed  to  deal  with  the  refugee  problem  in  England, 
that  here  were  two  people  whose  organizing  abilities 
were  valuable  and  must  be  secured.  When  the  Local 
Government  Board  stepped  in,  their  services  were  still 
further  called  into  requisition  in  connection  with  the  ac- 
tual shipping  of  the  Belgians  from  Holland ;  and  Bram- 
field, in  addition,  was  drawn  into  the  American  Relief 
Commission,  and  became  one  of  the  most  active  mem- 
bers at  the  London  headquarters.  So  that  his  personal 
concerns  had  little  chance  of  continuous  attention,  and 
his  personal  emotions  not  much  scope  for  indulgence. 

Tamar  meantime  remained  in  a  condition  of  peni- 
tence combined  with  foreboding  uneasiness,  which  in- 
creased as  the  days  went  on  and  there  was  no  sign  of 
or  from  Bramfield.  She  felt  extraordinarily  lonely, 
for  her  journey  to  Holland,  with  all  the  possibilities 
of  fellowship  and  good-comradeship  which  had  been 
revealed  to  her,  had  shown  her  what  life  could  bestow, 
if  not  passed  entirely  in  the  company  of  precious  stones 
and  in  secret  worship  at  the  shrine  of  hidden  treasures 
in  an  inner  room.  She  could  not  analyse  what  had  hap- 
pened to  her,  but  she  was  conscious  that  the  delight 
and  rapture  of  former  days  had  undergone  a  modifica- 
tion which  was  entirely  surprising  to  her.  This  does 
not  mean  that  she  was  not  thrilled  when  she  touched 


WHERE  YOUR  HEART  IS      183 

her  precious  stones,  when  her  eyes  feasted  on  their  col- 
our, their  lustre  and  all  their  magic  characteristics 
which  she  knew  so  well.  Not  to  have  been  thrilled, 
would  have  meant  that  Tamar  had  ceased  to  live. 

But  other  feelings  constantly  thrust  themselves  in; 
and  even  whilst  she  gazed  at  her  favourite  asteria  or 
her  most  attractive  opal,  thoughts  of  Marie  Louise, 
Gertrude  Linton,  the  American  Relief  Commission  peo- 
ple, and  Bramfield  —  always  Bramfield  —  stole  over 
her.  When  she  held  in  the  palm  of  her  hand  her  most 
valued  sapphire,  of  choicest  cornflower  blue,  an(d  per- 
fect in  tone  and  transparency,  a  memory  of  the  ckrgoes 
of  mercy  intruded  itself  into  that  fairyland  of  delight 
hitherto  securely  screened  off  from  disturbing  outside 
influences.  And  forthwith  she  wrote  a  cheque  for  two 
hundred  pounds,  and  sent  it  to  the  authoress  who  was 
writing  an  appeal  for  the  funds  of  the  American  Relief 
Commission.  As  she  gummed  up  the  envelope,  she  said 
aloud : 

"  Little  enough  to  send  —  and  all  those  thousands 
and  thousands  of  starving  people  to  feed.  Two  hun- 
dred pounds  —  and  I  have  thousands  more  —  and  «vhat 
use  are  they  to  me  ?  " 

It  was  the  first  time  in  her  life  that  she  had  ever 
asked  herself  such  a  question.  Her  passionate  desire 
to  accumulate  money  and  treasure  was  inborn  in  her, 
a  heritage  from  her  mother,  as  natural  to  her  as  sing- 
ing to  the  birds,  as  swiftness  of  feet  to  the  swift  grey- 
hound. And  to  do  her  justice,  she  did  not  send  that 
gift  of  two  hundred  pounds  as  an  act  of  penitence,  to 
make  things  right  with  herself,  as  she  had  often  done 
before.  She  sent  it  because  she  wanted  to  send  it,  be- 
cause she  had  been  tremendously  stirred  at  the  time 


184      WHERE  YOUR  HEART  IS 

by  the  scenes  she  had  witnessed,  and  because  the  beauty 
of  the  sapphire  sank  into  insignificance  before  the  vision 
which  rose  up  of  a  gallant  ship  laden  with  tons  of 
precious  grain,  cargoes  of  mercy  for  the  starving  and 
stricken.  Nor  did  one  single  thought  of  Bramfield 
prompt  her  in  this  matter.  It  was  her  own  free  im- 
pulse, and  it  heralded  a  new  era  in  her  history. 

After  a  time,  as  Bramfield  did  not  come,  Tamar,  still 
penitent  and  wishing  to  obtain  his  forgiveness,  went  to 
his  offices  in  Hatton  Garden  and  found  him  out.  His 
manager  thought  he  might  probably  be  at  a  lapidary's 
known  to  them  both,  and  Tamar  pursued  him  there  and 
learnt  that  he  had  already  gone.  Mr.  Grierson,  the 
lapidary,  an  intimate  friend  of  Bramfield's,  told  her 
that  he  was  wearing  himself  out  with  public  service  and 
with  anxiety  about  his  boy. 

"  He  looked  very  troubled  today,"  Grierson  added. 
M  Very  tired  and  worn,  with  a  sort  of  droop  about  him 
I've  never  seen  before.  I  wanted  him  to  stop  quietly 
here  and  have  a  rest  and  a  smoke  in  my  inner  room,  but 
he  said  he  had  to  go  off.  Can't  you  persuade  him  to 
do  less,  Miss  Scott?  " 

Tamar  shook  her  head. 

"  No,  I  don't  think  I  can,"  she  said  dreamily.  "  He 
has  to  be  almost  feverishly  active.  You  should  have 
seen  him  in  Holland.  I  thought  he  was  —  very  won- 
derful." 

"Did  you?"  Grierson  asked,  scanning  her  with 
stealthy  interest.  He  knew  Bramfield's  secret. 

"  Yes,"  Tamar  repeated.     "  Very  wonderful." 

Her  face  lit  up  with  one  of  her  rare,  beautiful  smiles. 
She  had  been  fingering  a  most  glorious  bit  of  opal  mat- 


WHERE  YOUR  HEART  IS      185 

rix  which  was  lying  on  the  counter.  It  was  of  immense 
size,  and  she  asked  about  it  and  learnt  that  it  was  from 
Queensland.  It  served  to  stop  any  further  conversa- 
tion about  Bramfield,  which  was  more  than  she  could 
bear,  so  great  was  her  longing  to  see  him.  She  hur- 
ried home  and  wrote  this  letter : 

"  BRAMFIELD, 

"  I  ask  you  to  forgive  me.  I  am  sorry  I  insulted 
you.  "T.  SCOTT." 

She  received  no  answer,  and  she  wrote  again : 

"  I  am  sure  you  must  know  that  it  was  my  temper 
and  disappointment  that  drove  me  to  insult  you,  and 
not  my  conviction.  "  T.  SCOTT." 

No  answer,  and  she  wrote  once  more: 

"  I  admit  that  I  deserve  all  you  said  to  me. 

"  TAMAB." 

Still  no  reply  came,  but  Tamar  would  have  been 
comforted  if  she  had  known  that  he  smiled  lovingly  over 
these  brief  missives,  documentary  evidence  of  her  peni- 
tence and  humbled  pride,  and  kept  them  in  his  pocket- 
book,  to  be  re-read  many  times  during  the  day.  With 
the  arrival  of  each  one  his  anger  abated  several  degrees, 
but  he  was  determined  to  give  her  a  lesson  and  made 
no  haste  to  reply.  But  at  last  he  wrote: 

"  TAMAR, 

"  I  have  received  your  letters,  but  have  been  so 
rushed  that  I've  not  had  a  chance  to  answer  them. 
With  regard  to  your  amazing  insult,  I  forgive  you,  if 
it  is  of  any  value  to  you  to  have  this  assurance. 

"  BRAMFIELD." 


186      WHERE  YOUR  HEART  IS 

When  several  more  days  had  elapsed  and  Tamar  had 
received  no  visit  from  him,  she  artfully  set  about  secur- 
ing a  professional  interview  with  him.  She  had  never 
claimed  that  she  understood  diamonds  as  well  as  he  did, 
and  as  some  rather  fine  stones  had  been  brought  to  her 
by  a  lady  who  wished  to  sell  them  and  buy  War  Loan, 
she  wrote  and  asked  him  to  spare  a  few  minutes  and 
call  in  for  the  purpose  of  helping  her  to  value  them. 

Then  Bramfield  behaved  in  a  way  entirely  different 
from  his  usual  habit.  He  sent  his  manager  —  a  splen- 
did expert  —  and  Tamar  knew  that.  But  never  once 
had  he  only  served  her  indirectly.  He  had  invariably 
given  direct,  personal,  speedy  service.  That  he  should 
have  put  her  off  with  his  manager,  showed  her, only 
too  clearly  that  by  her  own  folly  she  had  alienated  — 
and  lost  him. 

After  this  rebuff  she  left  him  alone.  She  considered 
she  had  sacrificed  more  than  enough  of  her  pride,  and 
she  could  not  continue  being  actively  penitent.  That 
was  not  possible  to  her.  Passively  penitent,  yes  — 
but  not  more.  But  she  missed  him  sorely,  was  sorry 
about  his  anxiety  for  Bruce,  and  realized  as  never  be- 
fore what  he  was,  the  scope  of  his  outlook,  the  range 
of  her  unselfishness  and  kindness.  Her  own  words 
echoed  back  to  her :  "  You  should  have  seen  him  in 
Holland.  I  thought  him  —  very  wonderful." 

She  could  not  bear  the  sight  of  any  of  the  Dutch  nefs, 
nor  of  that  reconstructed  emerald.  They  reminded 
her  of  her  mistaken  judgment  and  her  hateful  outburst 
of  temper.  She  felt  almost  inclined  to  sell  them  at 
once  cheaply  and  thus  get  rid  of  them.  But  saner 
business  instincts  prevailed,  and  she  hid  them  away  out 
of  sight,  but  ready  for  future  favourable  opportunity. 


WHERE  YOUR  HEART  IS      187 

But  although  Tamar  was  lonely  in  spirit,  her  days 
did  not  lack  events,  nor  her  business  clients.  She  was, 
in  fact,  unusually  busy,  and  amongst  other  things  sold 
some  of  her  best  George  the  Second  silver  bits,  notably 
a  pair  of  caskets  beautifully  chased  with  foliage,  and  a 
very  fine  pilgrim  bottle,  and  a  Queen  Anne  three-han- 
dled cup.  She  parted  company  also  with  some  of  her 
Spode  china,  two  Battersea  enamels  and  several  costly 
jewels.  People  apparently  had  plenty  of  money  to 
spend  on  luxuries  in  spite  of  the  war;  but  there  were, 
likewise,  a  great  many  others  who  were  parting  with 
their  possessions  to  raise  money  either  for  themselves  or 
for  some  purpose  in  connection  with  the  war.  Gold 
rings  and  brooches,  thick  snake  bracelets  and  many 
hideous  and  enormous  lockets  had  been  unearthed  from 
the  recesses  of  Mid-Victorian  cupboards  with  glass 
doors.  Some  of  the  objects  brought  to  light  were  ex- 
tremely interesting,  others  ugly  but  valuable,  and  not  a 
few  comparatively  worthless.  She  grunted  approval 
over  some,  sniffed  at  others  and  laughed  goodnatu  redly 
at  quite  a  number.  But  on  the  whole,  considering  she 
was  Tamar,  she  behaved  very  decently  about  prices  when 
she  learnt  that  these  treasures  were  being  sold  to  buy 
War  Loan ;  and  in  one  instance  she  did  an  act  of  gen- 
erosity in  kindest  fashion. 

This  was  in  the  case  of  an  elderly  woman,  about  the 
same  age  as  Mrs.  Thornton,  obviously  poor,  timid  and 
retiring,  and  quite  the  last  person  in  the  world  to  enter 
a  shop  and  offer  anything  for  sale.  T.  Scott  knew 
types  well.  She  knew  that  this  gentle  lady  came  from 
a  backwater  of  life,  and  that  only  some  great  need  had 
impelled  her  to  bring  her  wares  to  the  market.  T. 
Scott  looked  at  the  huge  and  haunting  gold  brooch, 


188      WHERE  YOUR  HEART  IS 

designed  to  contain  a  miniature,  surrounded  by  a  twisted 
pattern  —  a  triumph  of  clumsy  device  and  workman-, 
ship.  The  gold  was  not  even  good.  She  named  a  price, 
a  very  fair  one.  But  the  lady  seemed  entirely  stunned. 
She  turned  pale,  and  her  hand  trembled.  Her  voice 
almost  failed  her  when  she  attempted  to  speak. 

"  Oh,"  she  said,  "  what  a  disappointment.  I  was 
hoping  to  send  so  many  parcels  of  food  to  my  boy  who  is 
a  prisoner  with  the  Germans." 

She  made  no  complaint,  urged  no  concession,  but  ac- 
cepted T.  Scott's  verdict  as  final,  and  put  the  twenty- 
five  shillings  in  her  purse.  The  money  would  at  least 
send  three  parcels  to  Diilmen  in  Westphalia.  Three 
parcels  were  better  than  nothing. 

The  dumbness  of  her  despair  touched  a  chord  in 
Tamar's  heart.  She  had  heard  in  Holland  something 
about  the  sad  condition  of  the  British  prisoners  in  Ger- 
many. 

"  Have  you  nothing  else  to  sell?  "  she  asked. 

"  Nothing  —  nothing  of  any  value,"  the  lady  said, 
shaking  her  head.  "  I  did  put  a  little  ring  in  my  pocket 
—  but  I  am  sure  you  would  think  it  of  no  value  —  and 
perhaps  I'll  keep  it." 

"  May  I  see  it?  "  T.  Scott  asked  in  her  best  business 
tone  of  voice. 

The  lady  hesitated,  as  if  she  could  not  bear  another 
rebuff,  and  then  handed  it  to  Tamar.  It  was  a  poor 
little  trinket,  with  a  garnet  of  the  commonest  variety, 
but  Tamar  examined  it  carefully,  held  it  up  to  the  light, 
turned  it  over,  considered  it  for  some  time  and  ap- 
peared to  give  it  all  the  attention  she  might  have  been 
likely  to  bestow  on  a  valuable  stone.  Finally  she  said : 


WHERE  YOUR  HEART  IS      189 

"  Well,  now,  it  is  just  as  well  you  showed  it  to  me, 
for  it's  worth  something." 

She  saw  the  lady's  face  light  up  with  hope. 

"  I  can  give  you  —  twenty-five  pounds  for  this  ring," 
she  said  casually. 

"  You  don't  really  mean  it  ?  "  exclaimed  the  lady,  her 
face  now  transformed  with  joy. 

Tamar  nodded. 

"  It  is  worth  that  to  me,"  she  said,  and  she  counted 
out  the  money. 

"  Ah,  you  don't  know  what  this  means  to  me,"  the 
lady  said  excitedly.  "  Let  me  show  you  this  postcard 
I've  had  from  my  boy.  Just  an  official  postcard  from 
his  camp  at  Diilmen.  But  look.  My  name  is  Page, 
and  my  boy's  Christian  name  is  Christopher.  But  do 
you  see  what  he  has  signed  himself?  " 

Tamar  read  the  signature  aloud: 

"  Christopher  Starving  Page." 

"  I  am  glad  you  brought  this  ring  —  a  beautiful  little 
ring,"  she  said  in  a  low  voice. 

Then  she  glanced  up  and  saw  Bramfield  standing  near 
the  door,  which  he  opened  for  the  lady  to  pass  out. 
He  had  come  in  unawares  and  had  witnessed  the  whole 
incident. 

"  Tamar,  Tamar,"  he  said,  "  why  do  you  ever  allow 
yourself  to  be  so  hateful,  when  you  can  be  so  dear?  " 


CHAPTER  XIV 

WHEN  it  came  to  the  point  of  parting  with  Dor- 
othy, poor  Rupert  worked  himself  into  a  state 
of  great  misery  and  even  wrath.  He  said  he  hated  the 
First  Aid  Nursing  Yeomanry  Corps,  and  especially  the 
Ambulance  Section.  Evidently  Dorothy  didn't  love 
him  at  all,  or  else  she  wouldn't  be  going  off  and  leaving 
him  in  this  heartless  fashion.  Why  couldn't  she  "make 
up  her  mind  to  give  her  work  up,  stop  at  home  and 
marry  him?  It  was  ridiculous  her  going  back  to  Ypres. 
Let  other  members  of  the  F.  A.  N.  Y.  take  on  her  job. 
She  didn't  love  him.  That's  what  it  was. 

"  It  isn't  that  I  don't  love  you,  old  thing,"  she  said. 
"  I  love  you  very  much,  and  think  you  are  the  greatest 
darling  on  earth.  But  I  can't  give  up  my  work  nor  my 
freedom  yet.  I  really  can't.  I  can't  face  domestic  life 
and  settling  down  to  being  your  wife  first  and  foremost, 
and  then  all  my  outside  life  gone,  just  at  a  time  when 
one's  outside  life  is  so  thrilling  and  interesting,  and 
one's  being  useful  too  —  and  wanted.  There  now,  I've 
told  you  the  whole  thing.  And  you  must  either  give  me 
up,  or  give  me  time.  But  don't  be  an  idiot  and  think 
I  don't  love  you  and  don't  want  you.  I  do  love  you  — 
and  I  do  want  you.  But  not  yet." 

They  were  sitting  together  on  the  sofa  in  the  draw- 
ing-room in  Russell  Square,  and  Rupert  put  his  arms 
round  her  and  tried  to  caress  and  coax  her  into  revers- 
ing her  decision.  He  was  crying  aloud  for  her,  he  said, 
body,  soul  and  spirit,  and  he  could  not  give  her  up  now, 

190 


WHERE  YOUR  HEART  IS      191 

when  they  were  in  measurable  reach  of  the  happiness 
they  had  been  planning,  and  when  his  share  of  the  jewels 
had  made  it  possible  for  him  to  marry,  and  when  he 
had  done  his  bit  for  the  country  and  could  not  do  any 
more  —  at  any  rate  for  the  present.  Her  answer  was 
that  he  had  done  his  bit,  but  that  she  hadn't  done  hers, 
and  that  until  she  had  carried  out  her  plans  and  put  in 
some  more  months  with  the  First  Aid  Nursing  Yeo- 
manry Corps  she  could  not  be  any  one's  bride.  She  was 
very  dear  about  it,  and  looked  entirely  bewitching  and 
womanly  as  she  stated  her  case,  with  her  head  snuggled 
up  against  his  neck,  and  her  hand  softly  stroking  his 
wounded  arm.  But  she  was  quite  firm,  and  said  he  must 
take  it  as  part  of  the  "  churn  up."  It  couldn't  be 
helped.  No  one  was  to  blame  —  except  the  statesmen. 
Then,  when  he  turned  sullen  and  sulky  over  the  fail- 
ure of  all  his  pleading  and  arguing,  her  answer  was,  oh, 
well,  if  he  wanted  a  girl  on  the  old  traditional  lines,  some 
one  content  to  sit  at  his  feet  and  adore  him,  and  wait 
breathlessly  all  day  until  the  sound  of  the  garden  gate 
of  the  suburban  villa  heralded  his  arrival  home  from 
the  City,  he'd  better  go  and  marry  that  girl  at  once  and 
have  done  with  it.  He  could  still  find  plenty  of  that 
type,  and  of  course  there  were  heaps  of  flappers  floating 
about  who  would  answer  the  purpose  equally  well  — 
probably  better.  He  said  she  knew  perfectly  well  that 
he  didn't  want  any  one  of  that  description,  and  he 
would  be  bored  to  tears  with  any  one  sitting  at  his  feet 
adoring  him,  and  he  didn't  want  a  garden  gate  or  a 
villa  or  a  suburb  —  he  didn't  want  anything  except  her 
—  dashed  old  ambulance  and  all,  and  he  supposed  it 
was  all  part  of  the  "  churn  up,"  and  he  would  have  to 
put  up  with  it.  Then  she  said,  yes  —  now  he  was  talk- 


192  WHERE  YOUR  HEART  IS 

ing  sense.  Then  he  had  another  shot  at  getting  his 
own  way  and  said  perhaps  she  was  sick  of  him  because 
he  was  wounded  and  disabled  and  not  in  the  pink  of 
health,  and  at  that  she  said,  nonsense,  that  he  knew  per- 
fectly well  that  if  he  were  permanently  disabled,  or 
blind,  or  disfigured,  or  deaf  or  dumb,  or  had  both  his 
legs  off  or  anything  awful,  all  the  Ambulance  Corps  in 
the  world  wouldn't  get  the  glorious  chance  of  her  serv- 
ices —  they'd  be  his  then  —  till  the  end  of  the  chapter. 
Now  didn't  he  really  believe  this,  silly  old  thing  that  he 
was  ?  Well,  perhaps  he  did.  Only  perhaps  ?  she  asked. 
Well,  perhaps  not  perhaps.  Ah,  that  was  better. 
Would  he  give  her  time,  then,  instead  of  giving  her  up? 
Of  course  he  couldn't  give  her  up.  But  couldn't  she 
just  go  to  the  registrar  or  to  church  or  to  any  old 
where,  and  then  be  off  on  her  own,  absolutely  free 
from  him  until  she  wished  to  be  claimed  by  him  —  so 
that  he  might  at  least  have  the  satisfaction  of  knowing 
that  he  had  secured  her,  and  that  she  belonged  to  him  ? 
No,  on  the  whole,  she  wasn't  willing  for  that  —  it 
wouldn't  answer  and  she  wouldn't  really  feel  free.  Per- 
haps then  she  wouldn't  even  want  to  feel  free.  Ah,  so 
he  had  got  that  out  of  her,  had  he?  Good  innings  for 
him,  that.  Then  he  launched  another  attack  of  coax- 
ing and  caressing,  but  all  in  vain.  The  line  was  im- 
penetrable. Then  he  was  angry  over  his  defeat.  Then 
he  was  sullen.  Then  he  was  penitent.  By  the  time  he 
was  penitent,  Dorothy  had  become  angry.  Finally 
they  were  reconciled,  were  braced  up  by  the  encounter 
and  went  off  together  to  the  theatre. 

Rather  mournfully  Rupert   showed  his  mother  the 
pearl  and  diamond  ring  which  T.  Scott  had  caused  to 


WHERE  YOUR  HEART  IS      193 

be  constructed  for  one  of  his  wedding  gifts  to  his  elu- 
sive bride,  for  in  his  innermost  heart  he  had  hoped  that 
Dorothy  would  give  in  and  marry  him.  The  stones  had 
been  very  beautifully  set  by  a  truly  cunning  craftsman 
known  to  Tamar  for  many  years. 

"  You  keep  it  for  me,  Mother,"  he  said  dejectedly, 
"  until  our  wedding  does  come  off  — -  if  it  ever  does.  I 
can't  bear  the  sight  of  it." 

"  Of  course  it  will  come  off,"  Mrs.  Thornton  said. 
"  Very  hard  luck  for  my  poor  boy  to  have  to  wait,  but 
it  will  all  right  itself.  I'm  sure  of  that.  Dorothy  loves 
you  dearly.  If  you  had  seen  her  when  the  news  came 
of  your  being  wounded  —  well,  I  can  only  say  she  suf- 
fered as  much  as  I  did.  And  I  was  thankful  she  was 
staying  with  us  so  that  we  were  able  to  share  our 
anxiety.  Yes,  dear,  she  loves  you  and  will  be  true  to 
you,  I'm  sure.  And  I'm  going  to  say  something  that 
may  sound  strange  to  you.  It  is  this.  If  I  were  Dor- 
othy, I  should  do  just  the  same,  Rupe.  I  understand 
it  so  well.  I  too  should  like  to  be  off  to  the  Front 
driving  an  ambulance  car  or  doing  my  part  in  some 
way  out  there;  Indeed  I  should,  my  dear  boy.  And 
if  I  feel  this,  what  must  the  young  women  be  feeling? 
Of  course  they  want  to  be  free.  Be  patient,  dear,  and 
wait.  She's  worth  it." 

"  Mother,  you're  an  old  sport,  that's  what  you  are," 
he  said,  giving  her  a  hug.  And  he  added  half  shyly : 

"  I  suppose  the  reason  you  feel  so  strongly  about 
freedom  is  because  you  were  always  chained  up?  " 

Yes,  she  told  him,  in  a  sense  she  had  always  felt 
chained  up,  and  that  she,  even  as  many  other  women  of 
her  generation,  inarticulate,  in  a  backwater  of  life, 
without  initiative,  and  drilled  by  tradition  in  an  unneces- 


194      WHERE  YOUR  HEART  IS 

sary  and  unwholesome  and  very  dull  sacrifice  of  self,  had 
nevertheless  longed  at  times  to  seek  a  path  for  herself, 
but  now  was  at  least  experiencing  the  joy,  almost  the 
personal  triumph,  of  seeing  her  own  vague  dreams  real- 
ized by  this  generation  of  young  women. 

"  Not  one  word  would  I  say  to  hinder  them,"  she  said, 
**  even  though  my  own  darling  son  would  have  to  suffer. 
I  would  rather  ask  him  to  help  and  not  to  hinder." 

"  Dear  old  Mother,  I  will  help,"  he  said.  "  I'll  be  as 
sporting  as  you  are,  and  Dorothy  can  put  off  our  mar- 
riage for  an  indefinite  number  of  months,  and  I  swear 
I  won't  sulk  —  much." 

"  My  darling  boy,"  she  said,  her  face  lit  up  with  pride 
and  pleasure,  "  when  she's  ready  for  you,  she'll  find  she 
has  got  the  best  man  in  the  whole  world." 

"  I  believe  I'll  go  back  to  Lallington  for  a  bit  after 
she  has  gone,"  he  said,  "  and  do  some  fishing  and  have 
a  shot  at  some  writing,  and  arrange  the  Governor's 
archaeological  notes.  I  should  like  to  try  and  finish  that 
history  of  his  if  I  can.  And  I'll  explore  the  house  well. 
There  may  be  some  more  precious  stones  knocking 
about.  And  then  there  are  the  moors.  I  long  for  them 
at  times.  London  is  all  very  well  in  its  way,  but  my 
heart  isn't  here." 

"  Nor  mine,"  she  confessed.  "  But  I  don't  want  the 
other  children  to  know.  Perhaps  I  shall  slip  back 
there  soon.  My  thoughts  wander  there  constantly,  and 
memories  of  your  father  call  me." 

And  then  they  spoke  of  him,  and  dwelt  on  his  well 
guarded  secret.  Mrs.  Thornton  told  Rupert  that  she 
would  always  consider  that  Miss  Scott  had  been  sent 
to  her  as  a  messenger  of  mercy.  If  she  were  never  to 


WHERE  YOUR  HEART  IS      195 

see  her  again,  never  to  hear  her  name  mentioned  even, 
that  would  make  no  difference. 

"  She  has  done  for  me  the  biggest  ching  that  one 
human  being  can  do  for  another,"  she  said.  "  She 
healed  a  bruised  spirit." 

And  Rupert  understood.  More  than  most  people  he 
understood  the  needs  of  the  spirit.  He  knew  of  those 
hidden  mysterious  sources,  from  which  alone  our  true 
life  of  the  spirit  springs  —  secret  as  a  mountain  stream 
working  its  way  tc  the  light.  His  mother  thus  was  able 
to  unfold  her  heart  to  him,  and  she  learnt  more  than 
she  had  ever  guessed  of  the  boy's  love  for  his  father, 
who  had  been  almost  a  stranger  to  them  all.  He  told 
her  for  the  first  time  how  he  heard  his  father  calling 
to  him  in  No  Man's  Land.  Never  before  had  they  had 
an  intimate  talk  about  him,  and  they  spoke  frankly  of 
his  complicated  character,  his  amazing  aloofness,  his 
long  periods  of  entire  indifference  to  their  welfare, 
his  spasmodic  concern  on  their  behalf,  and  his  lovable- 
ness  on  the  rare  occasions  when  he  was  reachable. 

Outside,  the  roar  of  the  great  city,  the  turmoil  of  the 
world,  the  warring  of  the  nations,  conquests  and  defeats 
by  land  and  sea  and  air,  imperishable  records  of  heroism 
and  sacrifice,  events  of  vast  import  vying  with  each 
other  in  tragedy  and  significance  —  and  in  that  quiet 
room,  with  the  fire  dying  down  unheeded,  and  the  lights 
unlit,  a  mother  and  son  in  communion  with  their  dead. 

Had  she  perhaps  shared  her  thoughts  and  memories, 
her  sadness  and  disappointments,  long  kept  secret,  so 
that  her  boy  might  always  have  the  remembrance  if  he 
wished,  that  in  an  hour  of  a  bitter  disappointment, 
when  nothing  seemed  worth  while,  his  mother  opened 


196  WHERE  YOUR  HEART  IS 

a  book  and  turned  over  with  him  the  pages  of  a  sacred 
record  ? 

Perhaps  this  was  her  reason. 

He  strolled  in  the  next  day  to  see  T.  Scott,  and  took 
with  him  the  four  pearls. 

"'  I  had  a  sort  of  idea  that  you  would  like  to  buy  them 
now,  but  didn't  care  to  speak  about  them,"  he  said,  with 
a  smile.  "  This  thought  was  very  persistent  in  my  mind 
during  the  night  —  probably  because  my  mother  and 
I  had  been  talking  of  my  father,  and  that  led  one  to 
think  of  precious  stones  and  you." 

"  I  had  been  thinking  of  them  and  longing  for  them," 
she  said,  her  face  flushing  as  she  took  the  lovely  sea-gems 
in  ner  hands.  "  Last  night,  as  I  lay  awake,  they 
haunted  me  —  especially  this  one." 

She  feasted  her  eyes  on  them  for  a  long  time  in  silence, 
and  then,  with  a  sigh,  laid  them  on  the  counter. 

"  If  I  buy  them  now,"  she  said  dreamily,  "  I  shall  only 
sell  them  again  almost  at  once.  Perhaps  you'd  better 
sell  them  direct  to  Bramfield  or  some  one  else." 

"  But  you  wanted  them  frightfully  yourself,  didn't 
you?  "  he  asked,  astonished. 

"  Yes,  and  I  want  them  now,"  she  answered.  "  I 
should  always  want  them.  I  should  never  be  able  to 
forget  them,  but  — " 

She  broke  off.     He  waited. 

"  But  this  does  not  seem  to  be  the  time  for  adding 
to  a  collection,"  she  went  on.  "  At  moments  —  terrible 
moments,  I  rather  believe  it  is  the  time  for  dispersing 
a  collection." 

"  Dispersing?  "  he  repeated.  "  But  you'd  never  be 
able  to  do  that,  would  you?  I  don't  believe  you'd  be 


WHERE  YOUR  HEART  IS      197 

able  to  do  it  any  more  than  my  father  would  have 
been  able." 

"  I  don't  know,"  she  said,  in  a  low  voice.  "  I  don't 
know." 

And  she  added,  with  a  ghost  of  a  smile  on  her  face: 

"  If  I  were  able  to,  it  would  only  be  because  of  the 
*  churn  up.' ' 

"  Look  here,"  he  said,  smiling  at  her  use  of  the  family 
word,  "  if  you  don't  want  to  buy  them  now,  keep  them 
for  a  while  and  enjoy  them,  and  revel  in  them  in  your 
own  way,  and  then  sell  them  for  us." 

She  shook  her  head. 

"  It  wouldn't  be  the  same  thing,"  she  said.  "  One 
would  have  to  possess  them  absolutely,  to  know  they 
were  one's  very  own.  No,  you  must  take  them  away 
again.  But  I  shall  never  forget  them.  And  there  is 
something  else  I  shall  never  forget  —  your  silence  about 
my  temptation  and  the  attempt  I  made  to  cheat  you  of 
their  value.  I  found  out  for  myself  that  your  mother 
did  not  know  that.  And  I  was  grateful  to  you.  I 
value  your  mother's  goodwill.  I  should  hate  to  have 
to  forfeit  it." 

"  You  won't  ever  have  to,"  he  assured  her.  "  You 
might  do  the  most  awful  deed  in  the  world  and  it 
wouldn't  make  any  difference  to  her  real  regard  for  you. 
And  as  to  my  silence,  why,  that's  nothing  — -  my  little 
bit  of  an  offering  —  something  about  the  size  and  worth 
of  a  tiny  seed  pearl.  That's  all." 

"  But  in  this  case,  of  a  priceless  value,"  she  insisted. 

But  he  said  that  was  all  nonsense,  and  swept  his  little 
seed  pearl  deprecatingly  away,  and  told  her  what  the 
churn  up  had  been  doing  for  him  these  last  days :  that 
Dorothy  would  not  give  up  her  plan  of  returning  to  the 


198      WHERE  YOUR  HEART  IS 

Front,  but  was  really  off  at  the  end  of  the  week.  Then 
out  came  all  her  stores  of  interest  and  experiences  to 
help  to  divert  him.  She  told  him  secrets  of  the  trade, 
and  taught  him  the  difference  between  real  and  recon- 
structed stones,  and  the  methods  of  selecting  them. 
She  gave  him  a  long  discourse  on  pearls  and  the  precau- 
tions to  be  taken  to  preserve  their  beauty,  which  was 
not  necessarily  immutable. 

"  As  you  are  becoming  such  an  expert  from  reading 
my  book,"  she  said,  smiling,  "  you  must  be  told  things 
which  are  not  in  my  book." 

Finally,  to  his  immense  amusement,  and  hers  too,  she 
left  him  in  charge  of  the  shop  whilst  she  went  off  on 
some  important  business.  In  her  absence  he  sold  two 
Louis  Quartorze  snuff-boxes  at  impiously  exorbitant 
prices,  and  not  by  mistake  either,  but  just  for  fun,  to 
see  whether  people  were  really  such  fools  as  to  pay  any- 
thing for  some  objet  de  vertu  to  which  they  happened 
to  have  taken  a  fancy. 

"  I  begin  to  see,"  he  thought,  "  how  these  dealers  in 
antiques  are  positively  encouraged  to  cheat,  like  some 
medical  specialists,  in  fact." 

He  was  wondering  who  his  next  customer  would  be, 
when  Dorothy  arrived.  She  had  been  to  Russell  Square, 
and  learning  that  he  had  gone  to  Dean  Street,  went  off 
to  fetch  him  and  found  him  in  possession  alone.  She 
poked  about  and  was  greatly  taken  by  a  particularly 
beautiful  antique  round  mirror,  hanging  on  the  wall. 

"  I  say,  old  thing,  it  would  be  nice  to  have  that  for 
our  hall,  wouldn't  it?  "  she  said.  "  I  think  I'll  buy  it 
and  keep  it  for  *  the  home  of  homes.' ' 

**  Oh,  we  are  going  to  have  a  home,  are  we?  "  he  said. 
"  May  I  ask  when  and  where?  " 


WHERE  YOUR  HEART  IS      199 

"  Of  course  we're  going  to  have  a  home,  and  a  hall," 
she  said.  "  And  that  mirror  too,  if  I  can  get  it  cheap." 

"  Nothing  cheap  here,"  he  answered.  "  You'll  have 
to  pay  dear.  If  you  want  anything  at  a  low  price, 
you'd  better  go  to  another  establishment.  Besides,  you 
can't  have  that  mirror.  It's  already  sold." 

"  I  don't  believe  it,"  she  said.  "  And  I'm  going  to 
have  it.  I've  taken  a  fancy  to  it.  Tell  me  the  price, 
Rupe." 

"  It's  already  sold,"  he  persisted.  "  Somebody  else 
has  bought  it  for  his  home  of  homes.  You're  not  the 
only  person  in  the  world  who  is  going  to  have  a  home 
of  homes  —  and  a  hall." 

"  Oh,  Rupe,"  she  cried,  "  I  believe  you've  made  up 
your  mind  to  buy  it  because  I  expressed  the  wish. 
What  an  old  darling  you  are  —  and  don't  ever  believe 
I  don't  love  you  fearfully  —  fearfully." 

She  bent  towards  him  and  he  held  her  in  an  embrace 
over  the  counter. 

Later  Tamar  came  and  saw  them  thus.  They  were 
entirely  unconscious  of  her  arrival.  She  smiled,  and 
crept  by  on  tiptoe  into  the  kitchen,  where  Mrs.  Bridges 
was  ironing  handkerchiefs. 

"  I  peeped  in  a  minute  ago  and  found  them  two  young 
people  love-making  over  the  counter,"  she  said,  with  a 
grin  on  her  face.  "  Something  new  for  the  counter,  I'm 
thinking." 

"  Yes,"  Tamar  said.  "  Something  new  for  the  coun- 
ter." 

"  Times  is  changed  here,  and  no  mistake,"  Mrs. 
Bridges  chuckled. 

"  Yes,  times  are  changed,"  Tamar  repeated  indul- 
gently. 


200      WHERE  YOUR  HEART  IS 

"  Yes,"  continued  the  old  woman,  "  a  fire  in  the 
kitchen,  more  food,  milk  for  every  one  and  the  cat, 
people  coming  and  going.  Young  things  laughing  and 
making  you  laugh.  It's  good  for  you.  I'm  glad. 
Ain't  you  pleased  times  is  changed  ?  " 

"  Yes,"  Tamar  answered,  "  perhaps  I  am." 

"  Love-making  over  the  counter  —  that  beats  me," 
the  old  woman  chortled.  "  Something  new  for  that 
there  counter." 

Something  indeed  new  for  the  counter  —  until  now 
nearly  always  the  scene  of  hard  and  ruthless  bargaining. 


CHAPTER  XV 

IT  was  the  hour  of  sunset.  There  had  been  a  snow- 
storm in  the  night,  and  the  fells  were  still  covered 
with  snow  which  lingered  also  on  the  moors,  but  had 
vanished  from  the  lower  slopes.  The  bright  emerald 
green  of  them  stood  out  with  added  vividness  of  tone 
against  the  white  background.  The  belt  of  woods,  in- 
finitely lovely  in  fresh  May  garments,  was  caught  by  a 
shaft  of  fading  sunlight,  which  for  one  brief  moment 
held  them  in  a  gracious  radiance.  All  around,  over 
the  wild  moorland,  far  and  near,  raced  the  clouds,  iron- 
grey,  dove-coloured,  or  touched  with  gold  or  purple, 
pale  green  or  delicate  rose,  snatching  from  the  setting 
sun  any  stray  jewels  of  its  fading  splendour,  wearing 
them  in  triumph,  casting  them  off  in  mournful  farewell. 
Rupert  stood  on  the  moor  watching  the  wonder  of  the 
scene,  and  feeling,  as  he  always  had  felt,  a  thrill  of 
joy  at  the  sight,  the  sense  of  space,  at  those  rolling 
waves  of  moors,  giving  the  impression  of  countless  tiers 
of  them,  a  world  made  up  of  them  —  the  only  world 
existing.  For  a  long  time  he  watched  the  changing 
splendours,  the  entrancing  and  unexpected  effects 
wrought  by  cloud  and  wind  and  light,  and  only  stirred 
when  the  growing  dimness  revealed  him  the  evening  star. 
Then  he  strolled  into  the  village  to  buy  some  tobacco, 
for  he  had  planned  out  for  himself  a  long  evening  in 
his  father's  study,  with  his  father's  papers,  but  felt  he 

could  not  face  it  without  a  well-filled  tobacco-pouch. 

201  .-4 


202      WHERE  YOUR  HEART  IS 

He  wished,  if  he  could  bring  himself  to  do  it,  to  ask 
just  one  question  of  the  old  tobacconist,  who  was  an 
enthusiastic  archaeologist  and  had  been  Mr.  Thornton's 
one  and  only  intimate  in  Lallington.  If  any  one  knew 
anything  ut  all  about  his  father,  John  Grimshaw  was 
the  man.  And  Rupert,  since  his  talk  with  his  mother, 
had  become  more  than  ever  interested  in  his  father's 
character,  and  longed  to  know  more  about  the  workings 
of  his  mind.  He  wanted  help,  too,  in  his  self-appointed 
task  of  finishing  his  father's  book  on  archaeology,  co- 
pious notes  for  the  remainder  of  which  had  been  left  in 
very  concise  and  methodical  form,  so  as  to  render  the 
work  comparatively  easy  to  any  intelligent  person  who 
might  undertake  it.  Grimshaw  would  help,  he  felt  cer- 
tain, and,  failing  him,  there  would  be  others  to  whom 
he  could  apply  if  he  could  not  manage  alone.  Archae- 
ology as  a  subject  was  not  in  his  line,  but  he  had  a  gift 
for  writing  and  a  resourcefulness  with  his  pen  which  en- 
couraged him  to  think  that  he  might  fit  himself  in  time 
for  a  literary  career.  This  belief  had  grown  on  him 
since  he  had  been  ill;  and  during  his  long  months  of 
recovery  he  had  been  forging  ahead  with  his  efforts, 
almost  in  the  same  furtive  way  as  his  father  had  col- 
lected precious  stones. 

He  turned  into  Grimshaw's  shop,  bought  his  tobacco, 
and  then  spoke  about  the  unfinished  book  and  his  great 
wish  —  the  wish  of  the  whole  family,  indeed  —  to  bring 
it  to  completion  and  publish  it. 

"  Yes,  it  ought  to  be  done,"  the  old  man  said.  "  If 
you  thought  I  could  help  in  any  way,  of  course  I  would. 
Much  of  the  exploration  round  here  in  these  parts  we 
did  together,  as  you  know.  The  very  happiest  hours  of 
my  life,  Mr.  Rupert,  have  been  spent  in  your  father's 


WHERE  YOUR  HEART  IS      203 

company.  I  thought  I  knew  something  about  him. 
But  I  evidently  did  not." 

Rupert  knew,  of  course,  that  Grimshaw  was  referring 
to  the  discovery  of  the  fortune  in  precious  stones,  news 
and  details  of  which  had  leaked  out  in  that  strange  way 
in  which  secrets,  however  jealously  guarded,  become  the 
common  property  of  a  village.  For  a  moment  he  re- 
mained silent,  his  pride  battling  with  his  intense  desire 
to  question  GrimshaT  .  At  last,  with  great  effort,  he 
said: 

"  Grimshaw,  tell  me,  did  he  never  once  speak  tc  you. 
about  his  collection  of  precious  stones  ?  Did  you  never 
have  any  idea,  any  vague  suspicion  from  anything  that 
he  might  have  said  or  done,  that  he  was  a  passionate 
lover  of  them  and  a  secret  collector?  I  could  not  bring 
myself  to  mention  the  subject  to  you  but  that  I  know, 
of  course,  that  the  strange  story  is  no  longer  private 
property.  And  even  now  — " 

He  broke  off. 

"  No,  I  had  no  idea,"  Grimshaw  said,  shaking  his 
head.  "  Never  a  sign  nor  a  word  did  I  have  from  him. 
I  believed  his  interest  was  centred  in  archaeology.  But 
when  I  learnt  the  story  of  the  stones,  my  mind  leapt 
back  to  one  incident  which  I  had  completely  forgotten. 
It  was  long  ago,  but  it  impressed  me  at  the  time.  It 
was  this.  We'd  found  many  interesting  things  in  a  bar- 
row on  Shackleton  Moor.  I  remember  distinctly  what 
they  were:  bones  of  an  ox  and  stag,  remains  of  mill- 
stones, querns  and  household  implements,  and  a  bone 
spoon.  We  had  put  everything  together  except  the 
bone  spoon,  which  he  dropped  and  then  carried  in  his 
pocket.  Afterwards,  when  we  were  talking  about  this 
barrow  and  its  contents,  he  said:  '  Ah,  that  little  bone 


204      WHERE  YOUR  HEART  IS 

spoon.  I'd  forgotten  it.'  And  he  fumbled  in  his  pocket 
and  drew  out  —  to  my  astonishment  —  together  with 
the  spoon  —  a  jewel  —  a  very  beautiful  green  stone 
—  an  emerald,  I  suppose  —  very  rich  in  colour  —  I'd 
never  seen  anything  of  the  kind  so  beautiful.  But  I 
only  got  a  glimpse  of  it,  for  when  he  saw  what  he  had 
done,  he  whipped  it  away  and  looked  furious.  He  was 
angry  with  himself  and  angry  with  me.  I  was  deeply 
puzzled  at  the  time.  But  I  understand  now  that  he 
thought  he  was  betraying  his  secret." 

"  Did  he  ever  refer  to  the  incident?  "  Rupert  asked. 

"  Never,"  Grimshaw  answered.  "  But  he  kept  away 
for  some  time,  seemed  to  take  a  dislike  to  me,  and  went 
on  his  excavations  alone.  Eventually  his  feeling 
against  me  wore  off,  and  we  renewed  our  intercourse 
as  if  nothing  had  happened  to  interrupt  it." 

Rupert  went  home  and  settled  himself  in  the  library, 
where  the  caretaker  had  lit  a  comforting  fire.  He  had 
already  begun  to  sort  his  father's  private  and  personal 
papers,  and  to  set  on  one  side  any  important  ones  for 
his  mother's  special  consideration.  She  had  entrusted 
him  with  the  task  of  burning  all  her  letters  to  his  father 
if  he  should  find  any.  He  now  came  across  a  packet 
marked  "  Letters  from  my  beloved  wife."  He  threw  it 
untouched  into  the  fire  and  watched  it  crumble  into 
blackened  ashes.  He  found,  amongst  other  things,  a 
volume  of  his  father's  journal,  and  opened  it  haphazard 
to  see  whether  it  contained  any  reference,  however  brief, 
to  his  secret  passion.  Then,  still  with  this  idea  in  his 
mind,  he  read  on  and  on,  but  found  not  one  single  sen- 
tence which  had  any  bearing  on  the  subject  which,  as 
was  now  known,  had  greatly  engrossed  him.  The  jour- 


WHERE  YOUR  HEART  IS      205 

nal  was  that  of  an  archaeologist.  Perhaps  somewhere 
there  might  be  the  journal  of  a  collector  of  precious 
stones. 

But  Rupert  found  nothing  of  the  sort. 

At  last  he  did  come  across  something  which  repaid 
him  for  the  effort  and  the  pain  and  the  uneasy  shame 
always  felt  in  handling  the  private  papers  of  the  dead. 
It  was  a  long,  yellow-with-age  envelope.  He  un- 
earthed it  from  the  bottom  drawer  of  his  father's 
desk.  He  held  it  in  his  hand  and  did  not  open 
it.  He  could  not.  He  put  it  back  where  he  had 
found  it,  determined  that  he  would  read  no  more,  intrude 
no  more,  probe  no  more.  The  pain  was  too  great,  the 
shame  was  too  great.  It  was  taking  too  great  a  liberty 
with  the  dead,  who  were  not  there  to  protect  themselves 
—  taking  an  unfair  advantage  of  them. 

Yet  he  knew  that  he  was  not  actuated  by  a  merely 
prying  spirit.  He  desired  earnestly  to  know  something 
about  that  father  whom,  with  so  little  encouragement, 
he  would  have  dearly  loved,  had  loved,  in  fact,  but  in  a 
silence  and  a  reserve  which  had  never  been  challenged. 
Nevertheless  he  desisted,  possessed  suddenly  by  the  feel- 
ing that  he  had  no  right  to  force  an  access  denied  to 
him  in  life. 

Instead,  he  turned  to  the  impersonal  archaeological 
papers,  and  began  to  read  carefully  one  of  the  chapters 
on  the  barrows  and  enclosures  in  Westmoreland,  which 
his  father  had  left  imperfect  so  far  as  the  structure  and 
composition  were  concerned,  but  with  full  details  and 
notes  on  separate  little  pieces  of  paper,  all  carefully 
numbered  and  in  a  handwriting  so  microscopic  as  to  be 
almost  illegible.  Rupert  remembered  his  father  had  al- 
ways said  that  when  he  was  most  interested  in  his  sub- 


206      WHERE  YOUR  HEART  IS 

ject,  his  handwriting  became  so  small  that  he  very  often 
had  to  use  a  magnifying  glass  to  be  able  to  read  it 
himself.  Here,  then,  was  a  case  in  point.  His  father 
must  have  been  acutely  interested  in  those  particular 
barrows.  Indeed,  the  MS.  said  as  much,  and  recorded 
a  great  dispute  with  other  archaeologists,  from  which 
Mr.  Thornton  had  evidently  emerged  victorious  and  tri- 
umphant. Rupert  opened  the  right-hand  drawer  of 
his  father's  desk,  took  out  a  magnifying  glass  he  had 
seen  there,  and  began  to  decipher  and  copy  out  the  sen- 
tences one  by  one. 

He  was  so  engrossed  in  his  task  that  he  knew  noth- 
ing about  the  passage  of  time,  nor  of  the  wind  which 
had  sprung  up  suddenly  and  was  raging  wildly  on  the 
moor  and  battling  to  find  an  entrance  to  the  house 
itself.  Its  angry,  tumultuous,  imperious  voice  did  not 
reach  him.  If  he  had  heard  it,  he  might  perhaps  have 
gone  out  to  its  summoning.  For  he  loved  it,  the  might 
of  it,  the  elemental  anarchy  of  it.  But  for  once  it 
failed  to  claim  him.  He  read  on,  wrote  on,  forgot  the 
outside  world,  his  own  personal  concerns,  Dorothy,  the 
war,  the  Front,  his  own  comrades  still  serving,  his  peo- 
ple, his  plans,  his  ambitions  —  everything. 

But  suddenly  he  looked  up,  as  if  some  one  had  called 
his  name. 

"  Yes,  Father?  "  he  answered,  rising  as  he  spoke. 
He  stood  waiting  for  a  time. 

"  I  could  have  sworn  he  called  me,"  he  said.  "  I 
heard  his  voice  as  clearly  as  I  heard  it  in  No  Man's 
Land." 

He  sat  down  again,  but  he  could  not  focus  his  atten- 
tion on  the  work.  He  was  listening,  on  the  alert,  with 
an  expression  on  his  face  of  half  questioning,  half  joy- 


WHERE  YOUR  HEART  IS      207 

ful  wonder  —  the  exact  expression  he  had  worn  at  those 
rare  times  when  his  father  called  and  wanted  him. 
Again  he  heard  that  voice  calling,  "  Rupert." 
Again  he  answered,  rose,  and  stood  waiting.     And 
as  he  waited  —  waited  for  he  knew  not  what  —  it  was 
gradually  borne  in  on  him  that  what  he  had  got  to  do, 
was  to  examine  that  yellow-with-age  envelope  and  its 
contents.     Yes,  he  was   being  bidden,   authorized,   to 
examine  it.     He  had  to  do  it  —  and  at  once. 

He  had  left  it  at  the  bottom  of  the  drawer  with 
many  other  papers  piled  on  top  of  it.  He  threw  them 
out  in  haste  and  possessed  himself  of  it  eagerly.  He 
opened  it  and  found  inside  a  large  and  old  sheet  of 
parchment  with  writing  on  it.  It  ran  thus : 

"  December  31st,  1789.    My  Pact  with  the  Almighty. 

'*  This  night,  the  eve  of  a  New  Year,  I,  George  Rich- 
ard Thornton,  make  a  solemn  pact  with  the  Almighty 
to  try  and  cure  myself  of  my  secret  covetousness.  I 
swear  from  this  hour  onwards  to  abstain  from  my  se- 
cret worship  of  precious  stones,  and  from  my  impulse 
to  acquire  them.  My  lust  for  them  is  unholy,  my 
thoughts  are  filled  with  longing  for  them  when  they 
should  instead  be  filled  with  aspirations,  ambitions, 
hopes,  duties,  affections.  I  feel  my  character  being 
undermined  by  their  magic  influence. 

"  With  God's  help,  I  banish  them  from  my  mind  and 
life  to-night. 

"  GEORGE  RICHARD  THORNTON." 

In  a  corner,  dated  December  31st,  1912,  was  the  fol- 
lowing sentence  in  the  cramped  handwriting  of  Rupert's 
father : 


208      WHERE  YOUR  HEART  IS 

"Oh,  my  God,  my  God,  have  I  not  felt  the  same? 
But  I  could  not  keep  such  a  compact.  I  could  not  keep 
it.  Did  he,  I  wonder? 

"  JAMES  RICHAED  THORNTON." 

The  paper  fell  from  Rupert's  hand.  He  was  stirred 
to  the  depths  of  his  heart.  This  was  the  first,  the  only 
sign  they  had  had  of  the  trend  of  his  father's  mind, 
other  than  what  T.  Scott  had  been  able  to  suggest  to 
them  from  her  own  personal  experience.  Not  a  single 
entry  in  the  diary,  not  a  bare  reference  to  any  precious 
stone  —  but  here,  in  the  shelter  of  the  old  family  paper, 
a  confession  of  his  passion,  a  confession  of  his  struggle, 
an  admission  that  he  knew  whither  his  weakness  was 
leading  him,  a  recorded  regret  that  he  had  failed  and 
would  ever  fail  to  overcome  it  —  and  by  seeking  the 
shelter  of  the  old  family  paper,  surely  a  plea,  a  hope 
for  merciful  judgment,  for  that  large  forgiveness  born 
of  understanding. 

That  was  how  Rupert  interpreted  his  father's  mean- 
ing. This  passion  was  in  the  family,  an  inheritance  for 
which  he  had  not  been  responsible,  and  by  inference 
he  asked  them  to  deal  gently  with  his  memory.  In  the 
family,  was  it?  Well,  he  himself,  Rupert,  had  certainly 
not  inherited  it,  but  perhaps  his  son  or  his  daughter 
would  —  Dorothy's  son  or  daughter.  It  would  work 
its  way  out  later,  even  as  music  or  painting,  or  litera- 
ture, or  drink,  or  science,  or  great  powers  of  organiza- 
tion, or  any  accentuated  tendency.  How  mysterious 
and  how  wonderful.  How  wonderful  life  was  —  and 
death,  how  still  more  wonderful. 

Death.  It  did  not  seem  to  him  that  death  separated 
human  beings.  No,  rather  it  was  a  bridge  of  communi- 


WHERE  YOUR  HEART  IS      209 

cation  between  them,  of  surer,  stronger  structure  than 
any  afforded  by  life.  His  father  and  himself,  for  in- 
stance. In  life  he  had  never  found  any  means  of  access 
to  his  father,  and  now  in  death  they  were  in  touch,  in 
direct  relationship  with  each  other,  not  through  any 
intermediary,  not  by  any  elaborate  and  wearisome 
"  spirit  summoning,"  but  by  direct  approach  from  op- 
posite sides  of  the  bridge.  And  not  for  the  exchange 
of  trivialities,  but  for  an  intercommunion  with  meaning 
in  it,  uplifting,  stimulating  like  the  air  on  the  moors. 

Death  —  that  passing  into  the  unknown  made  falsely 
tragic  through  the  long  centuries  by  ordinances  of 
priests  and  songs  of  poets.  And  now,  at  all  the  fronts, 
young,  strong  men  dying  in  their  thousands  and  tens  of 
thousands,  swept  off  the  face  of  the  earth,  and  meeting 
their  new  fate  with  gallant  unconcern  and  generous  giv- 
ing. Perhaps,  for  all  one  knew,  all  those  thousands  of 
young,  strong  boys  were  being  sacrificed  not  only  for 
the  cause  they  fought  for,  but  for  the  far  larger  and 
infinitely  more  spiritual  purpose  of  bringing  home  to 
the  whole  world  the  unimportance  of  death.  And  if  we 
of  the  West,  backward  in  the  lesson,  had  learnt  that  at 
last,  then  in  very  truth  something  would  have  been  saved 
out  of  the  wreck,  something  gained  out  of  the  slaughter, 
the  murder,  the  misery,  the  ruthless  loss  of  life. 

These  thoughts  passed  swiftly  through  Rupert's 
mind  as  he  held  the  family  document  in  his  hand.  Then 
he  replaced  it  in  its  envelope,  and  put  it  in  his  breast 
pocket.  It  was  a  treasure  to  him,  and  he  knew  well 
that  it  would  be  a  treasure  to  his  mother,  infinitely 
more  precious  than  the  choicest  gem  stone. 

And  then,  his  tension  over,  his  detachment  ended,  he 
became  aware  of  the  storm. 


210      WHERE  YOUR  HEART  IS 

It  summoned  him,  urging  him  to  free  himself  from  all 
oppressive  thought  and  come  forth  to  meet  and  greet 
it.  He  went.  The  wind  made  a  furious  onslaught  on 
him,  but  he  battled  with  it  and  pursued  his  way  over  the 
moor,  uplifted,  not  oppressed  by  the  physical  effort,  re- 
joicing in  and  not  dismayed  by  the  thousand  voices  of 
the  turbulent  night. 

Rupert  did  not  write  home  of  the  discovery  he  had 
made.  He  preferred  to  wait  until  he  could  tell  his 
mother  himself  and  put  into  her  hands  the  old  family 
paper,  made  sacred  by  his  father's  words.  Together 
they  would  be  able  to  speak  with  reverent  realization 
of  the  struggle  of  his  soul  laid  bare,  his  recorded  fail- 
ure, his  appeal  for  merciful  interpretation. 

Not  again  did  he  hear  his  father's  voice  calling  his 
name  as  he  worked  in  the  library  at  the  archaeological 
chapters,  or  at  his  own  literary  ventures.  At  times  he 
was  depressed  by  Dorothy's  absence,  and  on  these  occa- 
sions wrote  her  screeds  of  reproach  which  he  after- 
wards destroyed.  He  sent  her  instead  loving  little  let- 
ters, and  said  he  was  waiting  patiently  for  the  home 
of  homes,  but,  all  the  same,  he  was  not  exactly  blessing 
the  First  Aid  Yeomanry  Corps. 

"  But  I'm  very  proud  of  my  girl,"  he  added  more 
than  once,  "  and  I  try  to  remember  the  '  churn  up.' ' 

He  shot  over  the  moors  with  some  friends  of  his  who 
came  from  Westmoreland,  golfed  a  little  with  others, 
and  played  a  game  of  billiards  now  and  again  at  the  Sta- 
tion Hotel.  One  of  his  comrades,  disabled,  like  himself, 
in  the  war  —  ,and  badly  needing  a  good  dose  of  bracing 
air  —  stayed  with  him,  and  together  with  him  roamed 
the  country,  a  lover  of  Nature,  like  himself,  and  an 


WHERE  YOUR  HEART  IS      211 

enthusiastic  botanist,  interested  also  in  the  legends  of 
all  the  different  counties,  and  especially  in  those  of 
Yorkshire. 

Even  as  Rupert,  he  was  glad  land  proud  to  have  done 
his  bit  for  his  country,  and  thankful  without  any  pre- 
tence to  be  released  by  circumstances  from  further  fight- 
ing claims.  He  hated  the  whole  business  of  fighting. 
His  outlook  and  Rupert's  was  that  of  many  of  the 
gallant  young  fellows  who  came  forward  in  those  early 
days,  in  the  hour  of  their  country's  need.  They  were 
not  necessarily  warriors  by  nature  and  inclination,  nor 
inspired  by  love  of  adventure  and  excitement.  Duty 
impelled  them,  and  they  gave  their  bodies  to  be  sacri- 
ficed —  but  something  more  too,  no  record  of  which  is 
ever  found  in  the  annals  of  honour  —  they  gave  their 
spirits  to  be  lacerated,  and  received  wounds  grievous, 
though  invisible,  not  easily  healed,  if,  indeed,  ever. 

Rupert's  friend  was  one  of  these. 

But  he  found  balm  in  the  quiet  countryside  scenes, 
the  sheep  passing  along  the  road  to  change  of  pasture, 
the  cows  slowly  wending  their  way  home  in  a  long,  thin, 
straggling  line,  the  beautiful  old  grey  homesteads  and 
halls,  with  their  mullioned  windows  and  stone  lintels: 
in  the  wonderful  moors,  changing  their  aspect  in  re- 
sponse to  cloud  and  light  and  wind,  in  the  hollows  of 
the  clustering  hills,  in  the  emerald  uplands,  in  the 
walks  over  fell  and  dale  or  through  woods  or  by  the 
rushing  glacier-cold  river. 

Thoughts  of  the  war  receded,  as  Nature,  ever  healing 
and  beneficent,  pressed  her  claims  with  tender  insistence 
and  offered  her  ministration. 


PART  II 


CHAPTER  I 

PEOPLE  had  given  up  speculating  when  the  war 
would  be  over.  The  war  had  evidently  come  to 
stay.  Prophets  of  the  early  days  beat  a  judicious  re- 
treat in  their  mantles  to  Heaven,  or  elsewhere.  Battles 
were  being  lost  and  won.  Statesmen  fell  from  power, 
rose  to  power.  The  agony  of  Belgium  was  shown  to 
have  been  only  the  beginning  of  the  tragedies  awaiting 
the  small  nations,  and  the  whole  world  was  gradually 
becoming  involved  in  a  struggle,  the  magnitude  of  which 
made  all  former  wars  appear  in  comparison  like  child's 
play.  The  manhood  of  the  belligerent  countries  was 
being  cut  down  in  tens  of  thousands.  Invention  and 
scientific  research  were  being  pressed  into  the  service  of 
destruction.  Every  effort  had  to  be  met  by  counter 
effort,  and  by  changes  in  outlook  and  custom  and  tradi- 
tion which  would  not  have  been  thought  possible  in  Eng- 
land at  the  outset  of  the  war. 

Yet  the  changes  had  to  come,  the  slacking  had  to 
begin  to  die  its  slow  death,  and  the  irresponsibility  of 
politicians  and  public  had  to  be  replaced  by  wide  vision 
and  intimate  concern,  if  the  British  Empire  was  to 
hold  its  own  against  the  increasing  menace  to  its  exist- 
ence. The  only  thing  in  England  which  did  not  need 
to  be  changed  was  the  temper  of  the  men  who  went  out 
to  France,  and  later  to  Gallipoli  and  Mesopotamia  and 
Salonika  and  Palestine.  Splendid  they  went.  Splendid 
they  remained.  Those  who  followed  to  fill  their  empty 
ranks,  carried  on  this  unchanging  record  of  courage, 

215 


216      WHERE  YOUR  HEART  IS 

devotion  and  endurance,  together  with  the  men  of  the 
Navy,  the  merchantmen,  the  mine-sweepers,  the  sub- 
marines and  the  airmen,  those  amazing  boys  who  seemed 
to  have  sprung  up  ready  and  equipped  for  service,  even 
as  Athene  from  Zeus's  head,  with  a  mighty  war  shout 
and  in  full  armour.  And  should  not  we  add  to  the 
list  the  gallant  nurses  in  the  hospital  ships  passing  per- 
manently backwards  and  forwards  in  the  danger  zones  ? 

Perhaps  the  greatest  changes  in  what  the  Thornton 
children  called  the  "  churn  up  "  was  the  gradual  par- 
ticipation of  women  in  the  conduct  of  the  war.  At  the 
beginning,  thousands  of  women  volunteered  their  serv- 
ices and  had  been  snuffed  out  with  promptness  and 
something  approaching  contempt.  They  were  told  to 
go  back  to  their  proper  place,  their  homes.  Later,  it 
was  intimated  to  them  that  perhaps  their  proper  place 
was  not  their  home,  but  aeroplane  and  munition  fac- 
tories, motor  omnibuses,  railway  stations,  canteens,  the 
War  Office,  the  Censor's  office,  the  Admiralty,  the  Front, 
anywhere  and  everywhere  except  the  best-paid  positions. 
But  this  great  change  born  of  necessity,  was  to  have 
far-reaching  consequences.  If  politicians  could  have 
staved  it  off,  they  probably  would  have  done  so.  But 
they  were  powerless.  The  war  could  not  be  carried  on 
without  the  women's  help,  and  the  women  were  willing 
enough,  given  the  opportunity. 

Many  had  already  gone  abroad  to  give  our  Allies  the 
services  which  had  been  rejected  by  their  own  country. 
But  now  England  decided  that  she  could  not  do  without 
them,  much  to  the  disgust  of  various  old  military  "  dug- 
outs "  like  Mrs.  Thornton's  brother,  and,  indeed,  num- 
berless other  reactionaries  in  civil  life  who  ha/1  not  even 
the  distinction  of  being  "  dug  out,"  but  had  remained 


WHERE  YOUR  HEART  IS      217 

firmly  embedded  like  fossils  in  the  deposit  of  aeons 
of  tradition.  Choleric  old  gentlemen,  mid-Victorian 
ladies,  selfish  parents  formed  this  feeble  and  futile  bat- 
talion. Like  many  another  battalion,  it  was  doomed 
to  be  wiped  out,  no  reserve  forces  coming  up  in  time  to 
lend  it  succour. 

It  was  visiting  day  in  the  St.  Ursula  Military  Hos- 
pital, a  cold,  wet  day  in  August.  In  Ward  Z,  where 
Marion  Thornton  worked  as  a  nursing  orderly,  most  of 
the  patients  had  their  relations  or  friends  at  their  bed- 
sides, and  parcels  of  gifts  of  various  kinds  on  their  lock- 
ers. Mothers  and  wives  and  sweethearts  and  sisters, 
fathers  and  brothers,  some  in  khaki,  some  in  plain  clothes 
with  the  silver , badge  of  services  rendered  and  enced, 
made  a  brave  show  of  family  life,  to  which  a  few  wee 
babes  contributed  a  not  always  silent  share. 

The  Sister  in  Charge  was  off  duty,  the  nurses  were 
having  a  cup  of  tea  behind  the  screen  near  the  fireplace, 
official  life  was  for  the  moment  suspended  whilst  the 
visitors  were  in  possession  of  the  fort. 

But  there  were,  of  course,  always  some  men  who  had 
no  callers,  men  whose  homes  were  in  Scotland,  or  Corn- 
wall, or  in  any  remote  part  of  the  United  'Kingdom ; 
for  the  mysterious  methods  of  that  amazing  institution, 
the  War  Office,  secured  the  results  that  Private  A. 
Jones,  of  Edinburgh,  or  Glasgow,  or  Land's  End,  or 
Durham,  or  Cardiff,  would  be  landed  in  a  London  hos- 
pital, and  Private  B.  Smith  of  London  would  find  him- 
self in  Edinburgh,  or  Glasgow  or  Land's  End,  or  Dur- 
ham, or  Cardiff.  The  men  accepted  this  strange  dis- 
pensation with  the  same  stoicism,  good-nature  and 
cheerfulness  with  which  they  met  every  contingency 
born  of  the  war. 


218  WHERE  YOUR  HEART  IS 

"  At  least  we're  back  in  old  Blighty,"  they  said. 
"  But  the  War  Office  has  got  funny  ways  —  and  no  mis- 
take." 

Forty-six  beds,  in  three  long  rows,  stretching  from 
the  staircase  door  to  the  exit  by  the  lift.  Fractured 
femurs,  wounded  arms,  amputated  legs,  amputated 
arms,  injured  spines,  trench  feet,  shrapnel  in  the  face, 
broken  jaws,  blinded  eyes,  burnt  and  bandaged  heads, 
burnt  hands,  paralysed  hands,  gas  suffocation,  poison- 
ous wounds  which  will  not  heal,  operations  which  have 
to  be  repeated  time  after  time,  suffering,  sleeplessness, 
restlessness  —  and  yet  the  dominant  note  of  the  at- 
mosphere a  patience  almost  divine  and  a  cheerfulness 
and  courage  indescribable.  The  courage  of  the  battle- 
field whilst  doing  more  than  their  part  there.  The 
courage  of  the  hospital  ward  in  continuance  of  that  rec- 
ord of  heroism.  And  kindness  to  each  other,  unselfish- 
ness, generosity,  willingness  to  share  everything  —  cig- 
arettes, the  last  shred  of  tobacco,  visitors,  however  dear 
—  and  something  still  more  precious  and  priceless  —  the 
last  match ! 

No  grumblings,  then,  no  grousing  at  all?  Oh,  yes,  a 
little,  of  course.  Always  two  or  three  in  a  ward  to 
undertake  that  necessary  and  healthy  office.  Good  for 
the  tone  of  the  ward,  too,  makes  the  Sister  sit  up,  the 
nurses  sit  up,  the  doctors  sit  up,  the  masseuses,  the 
librarians,  the  chaplain,  the  entertainment  organizer, 
the  needlework  orderly,  the  pay  office  orderly,  and  all 
the  powers  that  be.  But  extraordinarily  little  of  it  — 
that's  the  wonder  — •  and  in  perfect  unison  all  the  trades, 
occupations,  professions  and  businesses  work  together 
to  suppress  it. 

Miners,  butchers,  grocers,  clerks,  railwaymen,  tin- 


WHERE  YOUR  HEART  IS      219 

platers,  wheelwrights,  drapers,  public  librarians,  print- 
ers, bookbinders,  piano  makers,  carpenters,  divers,  fish- 
curers,  engineers,  motor  drivers,  electricians,  builders, 
land  labourers,  dairymen,  university  men,  secondary 
teachers,  compositors,  estate  agents,  telegraphists,  wire- 
less operators,  telephonists,  shipwrights,  actors,  boxers, 
organists,  commercial  travellers  —  all  closely  united  in 
a  silent,  unconscious  conspiracy  to  make  the  ward  as 
cheery  as  possible  and  snuff  out  anything  in  the  nature 
of  acute  grousing.  Every  kind  of  temperament,  every 
kind  of  outlook  or  none,  every  kind  of  character :  rough 
dispositions,  gentle  ones,  tough  ones,  surly,  sulky,  joy- 
ous, silent,  reserved,  proud,  somewhat  haughty,  a  bit 
patronizing,  a  bit  aloof,  devil-me-care,  reflective,  intro- 
spective, self-centred,  a  little  bitter,  a  little  angry, 
warm-hearted,  gracious  of  spirit,  radiating  charm  and 
courtesy  —  and  all  conspirators  in  the  cause  of  the 
ward. 

All  of  them,  or  nearly  all  of  them  —  the  exceptions 
being  so  few  as  to  be  negligible  —  in  league  to  lessen 
the  anxiety  of  their  dear  ones  at  home,  whether  in  New 
Zealand,  Australia,  Canada,  Buenos  Ayres,  Liverpool, 
Exeter,  Glasgow,  Coventry,  Deal,  or  anywhere.  One 
man  dying  almost  and  yet  whispering: 

"Tell  them  I'm  all  right.  Shall  soon  be  better. 
Tell  them  not  to  worry." 

Operation  after  operation,  and  always  the  same  re- 
port: 

"  Tell  them  I'm  jumping." 

Or,  if  able  to  write  themselves : 

"  Hoping  this  finds  you  in  the  best  of  pink,  as  it 
leaves  me." 

Animosity  to  the  enemy  ?     Not  much,  if  at  all.     Mr. 


220      WHERE  YOUR  HEART  IS 

Fritz  dead,  or  at  a  distance,  becomes  a  blighter  who 
couldn't  help  himself  more  than  Tommy  could. 

Strange  and  wonderful  creatures,  unconscious  teach- 
ers, acting  not  preaching  patience,  endurance,  cheerful- 
ness, kindness,  unselfishness,  sweetness,  charged  with  a 
spiritual  message  to  all  who  come  in  contact  with  them 
day  after  day,  to  make  the  best  of  everything,  every 
circumstance,  however  uncompromising,  every  disabil- 
ity, however  appalling. 

"  Nurse,"  called  out  one  of  the  patients  in  a  bed  not 
far  off  from  the  screen  behind  which  the  nurses  were 
having  their  little  bit  of  off-time  and  their  cup  of  tea. 

Marion  Thornton  emerged  immediately  and  went  to 
Private  Seymour's  bed.  He  was  a  fractured  femur 
case,  and  he  was  swung  up  on  a  mysterious  structure 
attached  to  the  bed,  which,  to  a  la}7  mind,  had  the  ap- 
pearance of  some  sort  of  compromise  between  a  family 
poster  bed  with  weights  attached  and  a  devilish  torture 
contrivance  borrowed  from  the  Inquisition.  His  head 
was  low,  and  his  legs,  spread  out,  were  high  up.  Yet 
he  was  fairly  comfortable,  now  accustomed  to  the  posi- 
tion ;  and  his  reward  would  probably  be,  that  his  in j  ured 
thigh  and  leg  would  be  stretched  out  almost  to  the  nor- 
mal, and  that  when  he  was  finally  rescued  from  his  en- 
durance and  on  his  feet  again,  he  would  not  be  a  helpless 
cripple  with  easy  locomotion  hopelessly  gone  for  ever. 

"  Nurse,"  he  said,  "  I'm  parched  with  thirst." 

"  All  right,  Seymour,"  she  said,  "  I'll  bring  you  a 
drink."  When  she  brought  it,  he  said: 

"  That  friend  of  yours  hasn't  come." 

"  Oh,  she'll  come,"  Marion  answered.  "  It's  early 
yet,  only  half-past  two." 


WHERE  YOUR  HEART  IS      221 

But,  as  she  went  away,  she  thought : 

"  She  promised  faithfully  to  come  today.  Weeks  and 
weeks  I've  been  at  her.  Again  and  again  I've  told  her 
that  Seymour  is  lonely  and  never  has  any  visitors. 
Surely  she  won't  fail  now  that  she  has  promised  at  last." 

For  Marion  had  left  Tamar  no  peace  about  this 
wounded  man  who  had  no  friends  to  visit  him,  and  who 
lay  silent  and  rather  morose  day  after  day,  and  had 
never  shown  any  interest  in  anything  until  that  one 
memorable  afternoon  when  a  book  on  the  subject  of  pre- 
cious stones  had  by  chance  strayed  his  way.  Time 
after  time  Marion  had  dashed  into  the  shop  in  Dean 
Street  and  said: 

"Now,  Miss  Scott,  won't  you  come  this  week?  Do, 
there's  a  dear.  Seymour  does  so  want  to  have  a  talk 
with  you  about  rubies  and  pearls,  and  all  the  wonderful 
things  you  know.  I  do  want  you  to  come.  I  do  think 
you  might." 

"  Some  day,  perhaps,"  Tamar  always  said  vaguely. 
"  There's  plenty  of  time,  as  you  say  he  is  likely  to  be 
in  hospital  for  months.  Not  this  week." 

The  truth  was  that  Tamar  dreaded  the  sight  of  ill- 
ness. It  was  not  that  she  was  not  mildly  interested  in 
Marion's  hospital.  She  had  had  to  listen  to  so  many 
accounts  of  it  from  Marion,  that  she  knew  it  by  heart. 
She  never  discouraged  the  girl,  of  whom  she  had  become 
fond.  She  loved  her  eagerness  and  her  impulsive  ways, 
her  enthusiasm  for  her  work  and  devotion  to  duty.  She 
would  have  done  a  good  deal  for  Marion,  but  she  could 
not  brace  herself  up  to  go  and  see  the  wounded  sol- 
diers. Marion  got  tobacco  out  of  her  and  a  liberal 
supply  of  "  Woodbines,"  numberless  boxes  of  matches, 
now  and  again  some  fruit,  and  constantly  chocolates. 


222      WHERE  YOUR  HEART  IS 

The  process  of  obtaining  these  bounties  was  always  the 
same. 

"  Our  men  like  chocolates,"  Marion  said  with  a  bright 
smile. 

"Oh,  do  they?  "  said  Tamar  dryly,  as  if  the  matter 
did  not  concern  her  at  all.  Then  a  day  or  two  would 
elapse  and  the  chocolates  came. 

"  Our  boys  can't  have  enough  '  Woodbines,'  "  said 
Marion.  "  They  do  smoke  them  quickly." 

"  Indeed,"  said  Tamar  mechanically. 

Then  three  or  four  days  would  elapse  and  the 
"  Woodbines  "  arrived. 

"  Our  boys  love  fruit,"  said  Marion.  "  It  does  them 
no  end  of  good." 

"Indeed,"  remarked  Tamar  with  apparent  indiffer- 
ence. 

Then  perhaps  a  week  would  go  by  and  the  fruit 
arrived. 

"  Our  ward  is  badly  off  for  gramophone  records," 
said  Marion,  who  grew  bolder  in  her  demands. 

"  Horrible  things,"  Tamar  said  severely.  "  They 
ought  to  be  forbidden  by  Act  of  Parliament." 

Then  another  week,  perhaps  two  weeks,  would  pass, 
and  the  horrible  things  arrived. 

But  when  it  came  to  the  question  of  visiting  the  hos- 
pital, Tamar  held  out  stubbornly,  until  at  length  she 
was  obliged  to  succumb  to  Marion's  insistence  and  name 
the  actual  day.  Up  to  this  she  had  parried  all  the  at- 
tacks made  on  her  unwillingness  on  the  many  occasions 
when  Marion  visited  her;  for  the  St.  Ursula  Hospital 
was  only  a  step  from  Dean  Street,  and  as  Mrs.  Thorn- 
ton had  truly  said,  the  Thornton  children  appeared  to 
think  it  was  their  right  to  run  in  whenever  they  wished. 


WHERE  YOUR  HEART  IS 

Tamar  shared  their  views,  and  poured  out  many  a  cup 
of  tea  for  Marion  in  the  inner  room.  Once  or  twice 
she  even  brought  one  of  the  other  orderlies  from  the 
hospital,  a  girl  with  a  mass  of  red  hair  and  eyes  as  blue 
as  the  most  beautiful  specimen  of  aquamarine,  and  as 
dashing  and  upspringing  as  Marion  herself.  Wasn't 
this  too  much  of  a  good  thing,  Mrs.  Thornton  had 
asked,  when  she  had  heard  of  the  visitation?  No, 
Tamar  had  given  it  to  be  understood  that  she  liked  these 
surprises  from  the  young  people,  and  that  there  would 
always  be  tea  served  in  Marion's  special  Crown  Derby 
cups,  and  always  a  welcome. 

And  now,  at  the  moment  when  Marion  was  wondering 
whether  she  were  going  to  keep  her  promise,  she  had 
dutifully  arrived  at  the  hospital,  presented  her  permit 
at  the  Transport  Office  at  the  gate,  and  been  told  where 
to  go.  She  crossed  the  courtyard,  and  suddenly  a  bell 
rang,  and  as  suddenly  young  women  from  all  quarters 
ran  into  the  courtyard  and  lined  up  in  front  of  a  Ser- 
geant-Major.  A  girl  carrying  a  basket  of  books,  and 
with  an  armlet  marked  "  Library,"  said  to  Tamar : 

"  You'd  better  step  in  here.  A  convoy  is  coming, 
and  no  one  is  supposed  to  be  in  the  courtyard.  Where 
do  you  want  to  go  ?  " 

Tamar  showed  the  permit. 

"  West  Block,  opposite,"  the  girl  said.  "  This  is  the 
East.  But  if  you  wait  here,  you'll  see  the  convoy  come 
in.  It's  very  interesting.  Then  you  can  cross  after- 
wards." 

Tamar  nodded  assent.  She  was  rather  quelled  and 
bewildered.  She  would  have  agreed  to  anything  sug- 
gested, and  above  all  to  a  suggestion  that  she  should 


WHERE  YOUR  HEART  IS 

depart  instantly.  She  had  not  expected  to  see  such  a 
big  building;  and  all  the  blocks  and  rows  of  windows, 
and  the  thought  that  hundreds  of  wounded  must  be 
lying  in  those  huge  wards,  suffering  and  mutilated,  ap- 
palled her.  And  now  she  was  going  to  see  some  of  the 
men  coming  straight  from  the  trenches.  Her  heart 
beat.  For  the  first  time  she  was  face  to  face  with  the 
consequences  of  the  war  in  England.  Another  bell. 
The  convoy  had  arrived.  Two  women  in  the  uniform 
of  the  hospital,  but  with  red  collars  instead  of  the  blue 
she  knew  now  so  well,  emerged  from  the  main  office,  the 
taller  of  the  two  holding  a  list  in  her  hands. 

"  Our  C.  O.  and  our  Surgeon-in-Chief ,"  explained  the 
orderly. 

Tamar  nodded  again.  She  knew  them  to  be  doc- 
tors, for  she  had  been  well  drilled  by  her  tyrant.  Her 
interest  was  now  getting  the  better  of  her  appre- 
hension. 

Then  in  glided  four  large  grey  ambulances  marked 
Red  Cross.  Out  of  them  in  succession  were  lifted  the 
stretchers,  with  their  wounded  freight,  and  laid  on  the 
ground.  At  once,  at  a  sign  from  the  Sergeant-Ma j  or, 
two  girls  stepped  out  from  the  line,  and  with  an  ease 
and  agility  which  astonished  Tamar,  bore  the  soldier 
to  the  lift,  directions  as  to  his  destination  being  given 
by  the  C.  O.  from  her  list.  This  process  was  repeated 
with  four  more  ambulances,  and  yet  another  four,  until 
all  the  wounded  had  disappeared  and  all  the  orderlies. 
The  quickness,  efficiency  and  care  filled  Tamar  with 
admiration,  and  her  heart  was  touched  by  pity  and  con- 
cern as  she  looked  upon  the  wounded  men  fresh  from  the 
trenches,  most  of  them  in  acute  pain  and  exhausted 
from  all  they  had  been  through  at  the  front  and  from 


WHERE  YOUR  HEART  IS      225 

the  journey,  and  yet  with  an  expression  of  relief  and 
gladness  on  their  faces  at  being  once  more  safely  home 
in  old  Blighty.  They  lay  so  still  in  their  stretchers, 
some  of  them  clasping  the  flowers  which  had  been  show- 
ered on  them  at  the  station,  symbols  of  welcome,  of 
gratitude,  of  admiration,  of  sympathy. 

A  mist  rose  before  Tamar's  eyes. 

The  orderlies  returned  with  empty  stretchers.  The 
ambulances  dashed  off.  The  Doctors  vanished.  The 
Sergeant-Ma j  or  dismissed  his  stretcher-bearers.  Peo- 
ple began  crossing  the  courtyard  again.  Tamar,  con- 
ducted by  the  library  orderly,  who  said  she  was  going  to 
the  same  ward,  crossed  too,  mounted  the  stone  stairs, 
and,  after  two  or  three  flights,  arrived  at  Ward  Z.  She 
paused  outside.  She  suddenly  felt  nervous,  worried,  re- 
luctant to  face  the  sights  she  dreaded. 

"  I  have  never  been  in  a  hospital  ward,"  she  said.  "  I 
don't  know  whether  I  can  go  in." 

The  girl  glanced  at  her  in  surprise. 

"  Can't  you?  "  she  asked.  "  Oh,  yes,  I  think  you  can. 
You'll  find  all  the  men  very  cheerful.  In  fact,  if  one 
wants  to  be  cheered  and  heartened  in  these  days,  all  one 
has  to  do  is  to  go  into  a  ward.  At  least  that  has  been 
my  experience.  Whom  do  you  want  to  see?  " 

The  girl's  face  lit  up  when  she  read  the  name  of  Sey- 
mour on  Tamar's  admission  paper. 

"  Seymour,"  she  said  eagerly.  "  I  am  glad.  He's 
the  man  who  only  cares  to  read  about  jewels.  Are  you 
by  any  chance  the  lady  whom  Nurse  Thornton  is  always 
speaking  of,  some  one  who  knows  all  about  precious 
stones  and  could  make  Seymour  very  happy?  Oh,  do 
say  you  are.  We  all  want  to  buck  him  up,  and  he 
doesn't  care  about  ordinary  things." 


226      WHERE  YOUR  HEART  IS 

"  Yes,  I  am  Nurse  Thornton's  friend,"  Tamar  said, 
smiling  at  her  eagerness. 

There  was  no  chance  of  lingering  when  this  fact  was 
known.  Tamar  was  bundled  into  the  ward,  hurried  up 
to  the  screen  and  before  she  knew  where  she  was,  taken 
possession  of  by  Marion,  who  held  on  to  her  fast  as  if 
to  prevent  any  possibility  of  escape. 

Marion  wore  no  nurse's  cap,  being  a  nursing  orderly. 
She  had  a  white  overall  over  her  uniform,  and  looked 
very  responsible  and  business-like. 

"  You  are  a  brick  to  come,"  she  said.  "  You  don't 
mind  much,  do  you?  " 

"  I  don't  mind  so  much  now  I  have  come,"  Tamar 
answered.  "  But  I  rather  dreaded  it.  I  believe  I 
should  have  bolted  at  the  door  but  for  that  girl  with  the 
books.  She  hustled  me  in  when  she  knew  who  I  was." 

Marion  laughed. 

"  She  would,  of  course,"  she  said.  "  She  knows  I 
wanted  you  to  come.  Well,  I  forgive  you  now,  but 
you've  been  a  wicked  woman  to  delay  so  long." 

"  I've  brought  some  of  my  best  stones  for  him  to  see," 
Tamar  said  penitently. 

Marion  gave  her  a  dig  of  approval  and  led  her  right 
down  the  ward.  None  of  the  men  took  any  notice  of 
her,  most  of  them  being  occupied  with  their  visitors. 
And  when  she  stood  before  Seymour's  bed  she  forgot  her 
fears  entirely,  a  great  compassion  taking  the  place  of 
her  former  reluctance.  So  this  was  the  soldier  she  had 
so  often  refused  to  come  and  see,  this  man  wounded 
grievously  at  Festubert,  and  now  enduring  patiently  his 
martyrdom  of  recovery.  He  had  wanted  to  talk  with 
her,  had  looked  forward  to  discuss  with  her  the  one  sub- 
ject on  which  he  was  really  keen,  and  revived  interest  in 


WHERE  YOUR  HEART  IS      227 

which  would  have  cheered  him  and  helped  his  recovery, 
and  she  had  persistently  refused  to  come ;  and  then,  when 
she  had  been  forced  by  Marion  to  promise,  she  had  put 
off  the  evil  hour  and  made  every  excuse  simply  because 
she  could  not  bring  herself  to  take  the  trouble  on  behalf 
of  a  stranger  —  or  to  face  illness.  What  a  brute  she 
had  been,  what  a  selfish  beast.  This  man  had  been 
wounded  for  her  —  that  was  what  it  came  to  —  and 
she  had  not  been  willing  to  do  a  little  service  for  him, 
to  make  a  little  sacrifice  of  time  and  sensitiveness  to 
give  him  pleasure.  Well,  she  would  retrieve  now. 

She  did  retrieve.  She  brushed  aside  with  a  supreme 
effort  all  her  unwillingness,  all  her  natural  unease  in  the 
presence  of  sickness.  She  forgot  herself.  She  tided 
over  the  man's  shyness  and  somewhat  sulky  reserve. 
She  claimed  him  as  a  comrade,  an  ally,  a  fellow  lover  of 
precious  stones,  a  sharer  in  that  strange  passion  for 
their  magic  beauty,  understood  only  by  those  touched 
by  their  mysterious  influence.  Out  of  her  breast  she 
drew  a  small  packet,  and  from  this  packet  she  took  one 
of  her  finest  rubies,  one  of  her  choicest  emeralds,  one  of 
her  rarest  sapphires,  of  cornflower  colour  and  of  peer- 
less lustre,  and  one  or  two  of  her  loveliest  pearls.  Sey- 
mour's face  lit  up  and  his  eyes  feasted  on  them  as  he 
fingered  them,  as  he  listened  to  the  comments  on  their 
characteristics  from  lips  that  praised  and  explained 
them  with  intense  enthusiasm.  She  had  brought  her 
own  book  on  precious  stones,  and  she  showed  him  the 
glorious  plates,  discussed  knotty  points  with  him,  talked 
about  the  various  methods  of  cutting  and  mounting  gem- 
stones,  told  him  some  of  the  stories  and  traditions  in 
connection  with  them,  and  poured  out  all  her  rich  stores 
of  knowledge  and  interest  for  his  benefit.  Out  of  the 


228      WHERE  YOUR  HEART  IS 

satchel  she  produced  other  stones,  less  valuable,  but  all 
exceedingly  beautiful  specimens,  amongst  them  two 
opals,  one  an  Australian  opal  with  flashes  and  spangles 
of  heliotrope  and  moss-green  colouring,  and  the  other 
flame-red  and  brilliant  green  —  both  of  them  entrancing 
enough  to  make  an  enthusiast  almost  weep  from  joy  and 
wonder. 

Seymour  was  one  of  those  not  only  wounded  in  the 
flesh,  but  in  the  spirit.  The  horrors  of  war  had  numbed 
him.  He  had  lain  for  two  days,  grievously  wounded 
and  unfound  amongst  a  number  of  dead  comrades,  him- 
self longing  for  release  and  death  which  did  not  come. 
The  memory  of  that  awful  time  still  haunted  him,  and  he 
had  not  been  able  to  dispel  it  successfully  as  many  other 
men  who  had  been  through  the  same  appalling  experi- 
ence, seen  their  friends  shattered,  blown  to  fragments, 
and  survived  alone,  cut  off,  hemmed  in,  undiscovered. 
Like  Rupert  Thornton's  friend,  like  Rupert  Thornton 
himself,  everything  in  his  natural  disposition  was  averse 
to  war,  and  though  he  had  done  his  part  willingly  and 
gallantly,  and  had  been  mentioned  in  Dispatches  for  a 
special  act  of  heroism  and  resourcefulness,  he  was  pay- 
ing the  double  price  of  physical  and  spiritual  injuries. 
They  were  healing  his  body  in  hospital ;  but  Seymour's 
real  self,  the  self  that  did  not  show,  that  gave  no  sign, 
no  response  and  yet  counted  more  than  anything,  re- 
mained out  of  their  reach,  out  of  their  ken. 

But  Tamar  reached  it.  A  miracle  took  place.  The 
man  came  back  to  life  again.  He  forgot  the  war,  for- 
got himself.  His  interest  was  reawakened.  His  imagi- 
nation was  stimulated.  Apathy  and  indifference  fell 
from  him  as  a  mask.  He  told  her  he  had  always  been 
interested  in  mineralogy,  and  had  spent  many  an  hour 


WHERE  YOUR  HEART  IS      229 

in  the  Jermyn  Street  Museum,  and  there  and  elsewhere 
learnt  to  love  precious  stones,  and  to  gather  a  little 
knowledge  about  them  —  not  much,  but  enough  to  make 
him  desire  to  know  more.  Tamar  listened  and  nodded 
and  approved,  and  smiled  with  pleasure.  Here  was  a 
true  comrade  in  spirit.  And  in  that  brief  hour,  there 
sprang  up  a  freemasonry  between  them  possible  only  to 
those  who  care  passionately  for  the  same  thing,  old  vio- 
lins, rare  old  illuminated  manuscripts,  precious  stones, 
Nature  in  all  her  manifestations,  music  in  all  her  mani- 
fold voices,  art  in  her  many  wondrous  expressions,  old 
buildings  majestic  in  form  and  tradition,  the  setting  of 
the  sun,  the  rising  of  the  moon  —  all  things  which  stand 
for  more  than  meets  the  eye. 

The  bell  rang.  The  visitors  stood  up.  Their  time 
was  over. 

"  You'll  come  again,"  Seymour  said,  as  Tamar  also 
rose  to  go.  "  I've  lots  more  to  ask  you." 

"  Yes,  I'll  come  again,"  she  answered.  "  And  I'll 
bring  some  more  stones  with  me." 

"You're  not  going  to  take  that  book  away?"  he 
asked  anxiously. 

"  No,  no,"  she  said,  smiling.  "  I'm  leaving  that  with 
you  for  a  week  or  two." 

He  thanked  her  for  her  visit.  He  said  it  had  done 
him  ever  so  much  good  to  have  this  talk  with  her,  and 
he  told  her  he  should  study  her  book  and  read  every 
word. 

Marion  dashed  at  her  as  she  passed  down  the  ward. 

"  I've  just  glanced  at  Seymour,"  she  said.  "  I  should 
scarcely  have  known  him.  What  have  you  been  doing 
to  him,  you  wonderful  person?  Sister  will  be  pleased 
when  she  comes  on  duty.  I'll  take  you  downstairs.  I 


230      WHERE  YOUR  HEART  IS 

have  to  go  to  the  dispensary.  What  a  pity  it's  a  cold 
day.  If  it  had  been  fine,  you  would  have  seen  the  court- 
yard crowded  with  beds.  Such  a  nice  sight.  Never 
mind.  Perhaps  it  will  be  fine  when  you  come  next  week. 
You  are  coming  next  week,  aren't  you?  Promise." 

Tamar  did  not  answer.  Her  concentration  over,  she 
was  feeling  bewildered  again.  The  row  of  beds  with 
their  wounded  occupants  struck  her  with  renewed  awe 
and  anxiety  and  with  a  sudden  panic  of  realization  that 
this  was  what  war  meant  —  broken  lives,  helpless  vic- 
tims, long  drawn-out  suffering. 

An  impulse  to  cover  her  eyes,  to  run  away  so  that 
she  might  see  no  more.  An  impulse  to  shout.  Then  an 
impulse  of  another  kind  —  an  impulse  to  make  sure  that 
those  precious  stones  were  safe  in  her  breast.  A  sud- 
den apprehension  lest  any  harm  should  befall  that  beau- 
tiful book  she  had  rashly  left  behind.  The  end  of  the 
ward  reached.  Relief.  Yet  elation  and  gladness  that 
she  had  done  a  real  little  bit  of  personal  service.  The 
stone  stairs  again.  Men  with  wounded  arms  going 
down  to  see  their  visitors  off.  Others  coming  up,  hav- 
ing already  said  their  good-byes.  A  blinded  soldier 
being  led  by  a  one-armed  pal.  A  very  young  boy  and 
his  sweetheart  finishing  up  their  love-making  in  a  dark 
corner  in  the  basement.  Then  the  courtyard  once 
more.  Marion's  voice  directing  attention  to  the  dispen- 
sary and  the  chief  compounder  and  her  orderlies  who 
were  carrying  off  a  cylinder  of  oxygen.  And  adjoin- 
ing this  department,  the  bacteriologist's  headquarters, 
and  inside  a  Doctor  recognizable  by  her  red  collar,  with 
eyes  glued  to  a  microscope.  The  Quarter-Master  hur- 
rying across  the  courtyard  pre-occupied  with  some 
problem  concerning  food  or  kits.  Sisters  returning  to 


WHERE  YOUR  HEART  IS      231 

their  duties,  so  faithfully  discharged  and  with  a  devo- 
tion no  words  could  describe.  The  Matron,  calm  and 
steady,  on  her  way  to  the  wards,  followed  by  her  white 
dog,  speaking  to  the  head  masseuse  armed  with  her  radi- 
ant heat  apparatus.  The  C.  O.  and  Surgeon-in-Chief 
on  the  steps  of  the  main  entrance,  in  close  consultation, 
supported  by  a  black  Aberdeen  terrier  and  a  white  one. 
The  entertainment  organizer  with  her  blue  armlet  mark- 
ing her  official  capacity,  fixing  up  a  notice  of  a  special 
concert  on  the  board  under  the  C.  O.'s  office  window. 
The  Chaplain  coming  back  with  a  party  of  men.  A 
librarian  carrying  a  large  packet  of  Nat  Gould's  novels, 
with  the  same  anxious  care  that  T.  Scott  would  have 
bestowed  on  a  consignment  of  Burmah  rubies.  Four  or 
five  beds  of  wounded  men  in  the  corner  of  the  courtyard 
facing  the  Quarter-Master's  offices.  A  Sister  stopping 
to  ask  Corporal  Reeves  whether  he  had  had  enough  of 
the  cold  wind  and  would  like  to  go  back  to  his  ward?  A 
London  County  Council  ambulance  suddenly  arriving. 
A  convoy?  No,  not  a  convoy  this  time.  Perhaps  a 
*'  drunk  "  or  some  one  taken  ill  on  leave.  And  now  the 
transport  office  again,  with  one  of  the  orderlies  tele- 
phoning, and  the  transport  officer  herself  interviewing 
some  angry  relative  who  has  come  on  the  wrong  day  to 
the  wrong  hospital  to  see  his  wrong  son. 

"  But  I'm  telling  you  it  isn't  the  right  hospital,"  she 
repeats  patiently  enough,  considering  she  has  made  the 
remark  ten  times  over. 

"  Then  it  ought  to  be,"  he  exclaims  with  added  indig- 
nation. 

The  pink  permit  given  up.  The  glimpse  at  the  every- 
day life  of  the  St.  Ursula  Military  Hospital  over.  Out- 
side the  gates  once  more. 


232      WHERE  YOUR  HEART  IS 

The  ordeal  dreaded  and  postponed  so  often  safely 
passed  through. 

In  the  inner  room  that  evening,  Tamar,  as  she  put 
back  her  precious  stones  into  the  safe  and  chose  a  few 
others  for  her  next  visit  to  the  hospital,  reviewed  her 
experiences  and  impressions  of  the  afternoon.  The 
memory  of  Seymour's  pleasure  filled  her  with  satisfac- 
tion in  having  been  able  to  render  to  one  needing  it,  a 
little  bit  of  personal  service,  something  which  called  for 
the  best  output  of  which  she  wes  capable  and  as  such, 
was  finer  than  any  mere  gift  of  money.  It  was  her  first 
actual  personal  service  in  the  war.  It  is  true,  she  had 
been  sending  off  cheques  increasingly,  sometimes  to  Ger- 
trude Linton  for  her  refugees  in  Holland,  sometimes  to 
various  war  committees  in  England.  At  first  she  only 
wanted  to  ease  her  conscience;  but  as  time  went  on, 
other  and  better  impulses  guided  her  action.  But  to- 
night, as  she  recalled  the  vision  of  that  ward  full  of 
wounded  and  broken  soldiers,  symbolic  to  her  of  all  the 
thousands  and  tens  of  thousands  of  men  sacrificed  for 
England's  sake  —  for  her  sake,  she  saw  it  clearty  for 
the  first  time  that  our  debts  to  them  could  not  be  dis- 
charged by  money  only.  Money  was  necessary,  and 
would  have  to  be  sent  in  all  directions  to  help  to  meet 
the  increasing  demands.  But  however  big  the  cheques, 
however  frequent  their  dispatch,  they  could  not  exoner- 
ate the  senders  from  failing  to  give  service,  personal 
service  of  some  kind,  at  some  period. 

No,  one  had  in  addition  to  give  one's  strength,  one's 
time,  one's  kindness,  one's  tenderness,  one's  skill,  one's 
compassion,  as  those  women  were  doing  whom  she  had 
seen  this  day.  So  this  was  what  women  were  doing,  not 


there  only,  but  everywhere.  She  had  heard  vaguely  of 
the  part  women  were  already  taking  in  the  war,  and  had 
learnt,  of  course,  a  few  definite  details  of  the  changes 
going  on  from  Winifred,  and  Marion  and  Dorothy,  but 
she  had  not  really  progressed  much  further  than  a  per- 
sonal, individual  interest  in  these  few  isolated  people 
with  whom  she  had  been  brought  in  actual  contact. 
Yet,  considering  she  was  Tamar,  this  had  been  a  de- 
cided advance.  But  today  had  come  the  great  push, 
today  a  larger  grasp  of  events,  today  a  wider  outlook,  a 
revelation  of  facts  and  duties  and  claims,  and  a  realiza- 
tion of  the  joy  in  answering  their  call. 

She  was  still  under  the  influence  of  these  thoughts  and 
touched  to  her  heart's  core  with  the  scenes  of  suffering 
she  had  witnessed,  when  Bramfield  came,  bowed  with 
grief  at  the  news  that  his  boy  Bruce  was  wounded  and 
a  prisoner  of  the  Germans  at  Doberitz.  His  face  was 
ashen,  his  eyes  looked  dazed,  all  his  vitality  seemed  to 
have  gone.  He  sat  huddled  up,  half  shivering,  and 
murmuring : 

"  I  don't  know  how  to  bear  it  —  I  don't  know  how  to 
bear  it  —  my  beautiful  boy  —  wounded  —  that's  bad 
enough  —  but  taken  prisoner  of  the  Germans  —  at 
Hooge  —  at  the  mercy  of  those  brutes  —  I  don't  know 
how  to  bear  it,  Tamar." 

It  was  more  than  she  could  stand  to  see  him  in  this 
condition  of  misery  and  despair.  She  had  all  along 
been  most  kind  and  tender  to  Bramfield  about  his  con- 
tinuous anxiety  regarding  Bruce,  and  now  that  this  defi- 
nite bad  news  had  reached  him,  an  impulse  of  love,  of 
pity,  of  protection  swept  through  her. 

He  had  brought  his  trouble  direct  to  her,  and  she 


234.  WHERE  YOUR  HEART  IS 

would  not  fail  him,  did  not  wish  to  fail  him.  She  knelt 
by  his  side,  gathered  him  to  her  arms, -laid  his  head  on 
her  breast,  stroked  his  hair,  fondled  him,  comforted  him. 

"  We  will  bear  it  together,  you  and  I,"  she  said. 

"  Tamar,  Tamar,"  he  cried,  as  his  lips  sought  hers. 


CHAPTER  II 

SO  in  Bramfield's  hour  of  bitter  trial  he  had  won  Ta- 
mar.  Whether  he  could  keep  her  was  another  mat- 
ter. He  knew  that.  But  meantime  he  was  uplifted, 
grateful  beyond  words,  filled  with  love  and  tenderness 
for  her,  and  strengthened  to  meet  and  bear  his  trouble 
by  the  knowledge  that  he  was  no  longer  alone ;  that  she, 
so  long  yearned  for,  was  going  to  be  his  at  last,  and 
would  share  with  him  everything  that  life  might  now 
bring,  hopes  and  joys  and  fears  and  plans  and  daily 
events.  But  for  the  thought  of  that  wounded  prisoner 
in  Doberitz,  Bramfield  would  have  been  the  happiest, 
proudest  man  in  the  British  Empire. 

And  Tamar?  Tamar  was  uplifted,  too,  a  little 
frightened  perhaps  that  she  was  parting  with  her  lib- 
erty, that  she  had  let  herself  go,  but  glad  she  had  broken 
down  the  barrier  raised  by  herself  all  these  years  and 
reached  that  haven  of  love  and  kindness  which  had  been 
waiting  for  her  to  possess  in  full  entirety.  She  knew 
she  could  never  love  Bramfield  as  he  loved  her.  She  had 
not  it  in  her  to  do  so.  She  made  no  pretence  to  him 
about  it.  But  she  did  say  at  last  that  she  wanted  him ; 
that  during  the  time  when  he  had  punished  her  for  her 
hatefulness  by  absenting  himself  and  avoiding  her,  as 
she  had  indeed  deserved,  she  had  learnt  that  she  could 
not  do  without  him,  and  that  life  without  him  was  un- 
bearable, unthinkable,  and  that  her  love  and  admiration 
for  him  had  grown  by  more  intimate  knowledge  of  his 
life  and  character. 

235 


236      WHERE  YOUR  HEART  IS 

"  I'm  not  worthy  of  you,  Bramfield,"  she  said. 
"  That's  quite  evident.  You're  great-hearted  and  gen- 
erous, and  I'm  mean  and  avaricious  and  grasping.  But 
you  know  all  that." 

"  I  know  that  you  make  great  efforts  with  yourself 
and  successful  ones,  my  Tamar,"  he  said  gently.  "  As 
for  my  virtues,  well,  I  think  you  must  be  mistaking  me 
for  one  of  your  favourite  stones  —  your  best  pigeon- 
blood  ruby." 

"  No,"  she  said,  half  wistfully.  "  Not  that.  I  only 
wish  I  could  love  you  as  passionately  as  I  do  my  fa- 
vourite ruby.  But  I  never  could,  Bramfield;  indeed,  I 
couldn't." 

"  I  couldn't  expect  such  a  miracle,"  he  said,  with  a 
twinkle  in  his  eye.  "  I  should  be  a  fool.  But  perhaps 
you  might  manage  to  put  me  on  a  level  with  a  humble 
garnet.  That  would  be  better  than  nothing." 

She  laughed  her  soft  little  laugh  and  caressed  his 
hand  which  was  resting  in  hers. 

"  How  very  beautiful  you  look,  my  Tamar,"  he  said. 
"  How  very  beautiful  when  you  are  good  and  happy." 

She  blushed  and  looked  still  more  beautiful. 

"  Well,  one  thing  is  very  certain,"  she  said.  "  I 
sha'n't  always  be  good  and  happy,  and  therefore  not 
always  beautiful." 

"  No,  of  course  not,"  he  answered.  "  But  always 
dear  to  me,  whatever  you  are.  And  now  what  about  an 
engagement  ring?  No  use  giving  you  anything  with  a 
stone  in  it.  You  would  only  criticize  it  and  want  to 
quarrel  about  its  lustre  or  weight.  I  know  you.  But 
here's  a  ring  made  at  the  front  from  a  German  bullet 
and  sent  me  by  Bruce.  I  prize  it  very  much.  Do  you 
think  you  could  wear  it  to  please  me  ?  " 


WHERE  YOUR  HEART  IS      237 

Tamar  nodded  and  slipped  it  on  her  finger  without  a 
word. 

"  He  was  always  wanting  us  to  be  married,"  Bram- 
field  went  on.  "  He  was  always  saying,  '  Why  don't 
you  make  that  wretched  woman  buck  up  ?  ' 

"  Well,  that  wretched  woman  has  bucked  up,"  Tamar 
said  with  a  smile. 

"  Yes,  and  because  of  him,"  Bramfield  answered. 
"  I'm  glad  it  is  because  of  him." 

"  No,  it  isn't  altogether,"  she  said.  "  A  change  came 
over  me  when  you  abandoned  me,  Bramfield.  And  I 
don't  mind  telling  you  that  when  I  saw  Rupert  Thorn- 
ton and  his  girl  love-making  over  the  counter  in  the 
shop,  a  great  yearning  for  you  came  over  me.  I  re- 
membered how  often  you  had  stood  on  that  very  spot 
wooing  me,  and  how  often  I  had  repulsed  you.  And  I 
said  to  myself :  '  Those  young  people  are  having  their 
love  scene,  but  I  also  could  have  had  my  love  scene  here 
if  I  had  chosen.'  I  was  glad  for  their  sakes  —  and  yet 
jealous.  I  felt  so  old  that  night,  so  lonely.  They 
seemed  so  full  of  life  and  love  and  untouched  by  deso- 
lation." 

She  paused  a  moment  and  then  went  on : 

"  In  the  old  days  which  seem  so  far  off  and  yet  are, 
as  it  were,  only  yesterday,  when  I  had  an  attack  of  deso- 
lation, all  I  had  to  do  was  to  take  out  my  best  treasures 
from  the  safe.  That  doesn't  help  me  now  in  the  same 
way.  It  didn't  that  night." 

"  That's  a  big  confession,  my  Tamar,"  he  said.  "  It 
gladdens  and  surprises  me." 

"  It  could  not  surprise  you  more  than  it  surprises 
me,"  she  said,  half  dreamily.  "  I  always  thought  I 
should  go  on  all  my  life  caring  more  for  precious  stones 


238      WHERE  YOUR  HEART  IS 

than  for  anything  else  on  earth.  But  something  in  me 
has  changed,  or  is  changing.  Some  tense  grip  on  me  is 
being  loosened.  I  don't  mean  to  say  that  it  doesn't 
tighten  up  again.  It  does.  But  it  isn't  stable  as  it 
used  to  be.  And  sometimes  I  am  afraid,  uneasy,  wor- 
ried, too,  at  losing  my  bearings  and  parting  with  some 
of  my  traditions.  I  see  my  mother  sometimes  in  my 
dreams,  not  always  comforting  as  in  the  past,  but  men- 
acing, disapproving,  disappointed.  You  know,  she  her- 
self cared  so  passionately  for  jewels,  and  instilled  her 
passion  into  me  and  left  it  there  almost  as  a  trust. 
Any  weakening  of  it  seems  a  treachery  to  her  memory, 
which  she  has  a  right  to  resent." 

"  The  dead  have  no  right  to  stand  in  our  path," 
Bramfield  said.  "  They  have  forged  their  way  through. 
We  have  to  forge  ours  with  the  help  that  life  affords. 
If  they  cannot  help  us  —  and  they  mostly  can,  Tamar 

—  then  at  least  they  must  not  be  allowed  to  hinder  us. 
But  you  are  thinking  of  your  mother  as  you  knew  her 
here,  in  this  very  shop,  in  the  same  set  of  circumstances 

—  angry,  perhaps,  if  she  had  done  a  bad  deal,  impa- 
tient if  you  had  not  set  a  proper  value  on  a  rare  stone, 
or  if  you  had  sold  a  perfect  pearl  which  her  heart 
hungered  to  keep.     But  how  would  it  be  if  you  thought 
of  her  in  other  terms,  as  one  with  a  larger  knowledge 
of  values  and  a  truer,  finer  sense  of  proportion?     Then 
perhaps  her  face  would  never  seem  menacing  in  your 
dreams  of  her,  and  her  voice  might  be  wafted  to  you, 
saying :     *  Lay  not  up  for  yourselves  treasures  upon 
earth,  where  moth  and  rust  doth  corrupt,  and  where 
thieves  break  through  and  steal :     But  lay  up  for  your- 
selves treasures  in  heaven,  where  neither  moth  nor  rust 
doth  corrupt,  and  where  thieves  do  not  break  through 


WHERE  YOUR  HEART  IS      239 

nor  steal:     For  where  your  treasure  is,  there  will  your 
heart  be  also.'  " 

Tamar  wept.  It  was  Bramfield's  turn  to  take  her  in 
his  arms  and  comfort  her. 

The  first  thing  they  did  together  was  to  send  off  a 
parcel  to  that  prisoner  at  Doberitz,  and  for  this  pur- 
pose they  went  to  one  of  the  offices  of  the  Prisoners  of 
War  Relief  Committee,  and  learnt  what  chances  there 
were  of  any  packages  or  communications  reaching  him 
from  England.  But  Bramfield's  principal  hope  was  in 
Gertrude  Linton  in  Holland,  who  had  always  many  ways 
and  means  of  overcoming  obstacles.  If  it  had  not  been 
likely  that  she  was  soon  coming  to  England,  he  would 
have  dashed  over  to  Rotterdam  then  and  there.  He 
did  propose  to  Tamar  that  they  should  both  go,  but  she 
did  not  encourage  this  plan,  not  having  acquired  the 
habit  of  doing  anything  at  a  moment's  notice.  But  one 
thing  she  did  do  quickly,  and  that  was  to  possess  herself 
of  the  names  of  two  prisoners  belonging  to  Bruce's  regi- 
ment who  had  no  friends  to  send  them  parcels.  For 
Bramfield's  trouble  about  his  son  had  brought  back  to 
her  remembrance  that  interview  with  the  sad,  anxious 
mother  who  had  come  to  her  shop  and  shown  her  the 
postcard  signed  **  Christopher  Starving  Page."  Here 
was  her  opportunity  to  step  into  a  breach. 

The  grand  personage  seated  at  the  table,  who  met  her 
inquiries  with  a  metallic  condescension,  nearly  put  her 
off. 

"  Wait  till  she  comes  to  me  to  sell  her  earrings,  and 
then  I'll  let  her  have  it,"  thought  Tamar  grimly. 

Mercifully  for  the  two  prisoners,  the  competent  sec- 
retary who  was  the  real  worker  behind  the  grand  per- 


240      WHERE  YOUR  HEART  IS 

sonage  who  got  the  kudos,  arrived  on  the  scene  in  the 
nick  of  time  and  saved  the  situation.  Most  assuredly 
she  must  have  had  great  experience  in  saving  situations, 
for  she  handled  the  matter  with  a  deftness  acquired  only 
by  practice,  poured  oil,  instilled  enthusiasm,  awakened 
sympathy,  and  made  Tamar  feel  that  in  looking  after 
the  welfare  of  two  prisoners  of  war,  she  was  practically 
looking  after  all  the  British  prisoners  of  war  in  the 
hands  of  the  Germans.  Tamar  liked  her  as  much  as 
she  had  hated  the  personage. 

**  What's  the  use  of  a  person  of  that  description?" 
she  said  to  Bramfield  afterwards.  "  I  know  the  type 
well.  They  come  sniggering  to  me  when  they  want 
money.  I  always  revenge  myself  by  driving  hard  bar- 
gains with  them.  What's  she  doing  there?  " 

"  Giving  her  name,"  he  answered  with  a  smile. 
"  That  is  where  the  value  of  people  like  herself  comes  in. 
And  it  is  a  very  real  value.  The  public  lives  on  names. 
You'll  see  that  when  you  come  to  the  London  Opera 
House  meeting  this  afternoon.  You've  promised  to 
come,  haven't  you?  I  have  a  reserved  place  for  you  on 
the  platform,  at  the  back  of  the  speakers,  and  you  will 
hear  well." 

"  I'll  come,"  she  said.  "  I've  never  been  to  a  public 
meeting  in  my  life,  and  I  am  sure  I  shall  hate  it.  But 
I'll  come." 

She  added : 

"  I  hope  marriage  doesn't  necessarily  mean  going 
often  to  public  meetings  ?  " 

"No,  only  very  occasionally,"  he  laughed. 

She  went  home  first,  laden  with  various  tins  of  provi- 
sions, cigarettes  and  chocolates  which  she  had  bought 
on  her  way.  They  made  a  brave  showing  on  the  kitchen 


WHERE  YOUR  HEART  IS 

table,  and  reduced  the  old  char  to  a  state  almost  bor- 
dering on  imbecility  from  astonishment. 

"  Food  for  the  prisoners  of  war !  "  she  cried.  "  Well, 
I  never !  It  fair  takes  my  breath  away  what  happens 
here  now.  Anything  can  happen  now.  Why,  you'll  be 
getting  married  some  day.  That'll  be  the  next  thing." 

"  Why  not  ? "  Tamar  said  with  her  soft  laugh. 
"  People  do  get  married  sometimes,  don't  they?  I  seem 
to  have  heard  the  report  that  they  do." 

An  hour  or  two  afterwards  she  started  off  for  the 
meeting  at  the  London  Opera  House,  which  had  been 
organized  on  a  large  scale  to  raise  money  both  for  the 
Belgian  refugees  and  for  cargoes  of  food  to  be  sent  to 
the  Belgians  in  Belgium.  Bramfield  was  one  of  those 
who  had  been  working  up  the  meeting  and  Tamar  had 
promised  to  attend  it  because  she  wished  sincerely  to 
take  part  in  his  life  and  show  him  that  she  was  inter- 
ested in  what  he  was  doing.  As  ever,  she  was  struck  by 
his  forgetfulness  of  self.  His  personal  trouble  about 
his  boy,  his  personal  joy  in  having  won  her,  seemed  but 
to  stimulate  him  to  work  more  strenuously  on  behalf  of 
others. 

"  With  you,  my  Tamar,  as  ally,"  he  had  said,  "  every- 
thing becomes  possible  to  me." 

"  I  shall  never  be  able  to  live  up  to  that  standard  of 
perfection,"  she  had  answered,  with  her  quaint  frank- 
ness which  always  amused  and  touched  him.  Tamar,  at 
least,  would  never  pose  —  could  never  pose. 

She  arrived  at  the  London  Opera  House  to  see  a  row 
of  photographers  awaiting  the  advent  of  Personages  on 
whose  names  the  public  and  the  Press  lived.  She  showed 
her  ticket,  followed  the  route  indicated,  and  was  shown 
to  her  place  on  the  platform,  where  already  many  dis- 


242      WHERE  YOUR  HEART  IS 

tinguished  and  influential  people  had  assembled.  Very 
much  did  she  hate  being  there,  and  she  was  greatly 
wishing  that  she  was  safely  back  in  her  inner  room, 
when  Bramfield  caught  sight  of  her  and  came  to  greet 
her. 

"  I'm  hating  it  before  it  has  begun,"  she  said. 

"  Well,  you  can't  be  feeling  very  cross,  because  you 
are  still  looking  very  beautiful,"  he  whispered. 

She  learnt  that  she  was  amongst  High  Commissioners, 
Ambassadors,  Dignitaries  of  the  Church,  Members  of 
Parliament,  Cabinet  Ministers,  and  men  and  women  of 
importance  in  social  and  political  life.  She  studied  the 
names  of  the  speakers,  was  entirely  unimpressed  by  the 
list,  and  only  thought  it  a  pity  that  Bramfield  was  not 
going  to  address  the  meeting  —  Bramfield,  who  knew  so 
much  about  the  misery  and  needs  of  the  Belgians. 
Well,  perhaps  these  other  speakers  knew  too,  otherwise 
they  would  surely  not  have  been  invited  to  speak. 

Tamar's  childlike  belief  was  soon  dispelled.  From 
the  very  beginning  of  the  proceedings,  she  discovered  to 
her  amazement  and  disappointment  that  the  Personages 
knew  little  or  nothing  of  the  cause  they  had  been  asked 
to  advocate  and  support.  They  knew  in  theory,  of 
course.  But  of  the  actual  misery  of  the  Belgian  refu- 
gees and  of  the  wonderful  machinery  set  up  by  the 
American  Commission  to  stem  the  tide  of  starvation 
amongst  seven  million  inhabitants  in  Belgium,  they  evi- 
dently knew  nothing.  There  was  a  good  deal  of  high- 
sounding  language,  and  there  were  streams  of  fine  elo- 
quence and  noble  sentiments;  and  as  each  orator  fol- 
lowed the  other,  gracious  tributes  were  paid  to  each 
predecessor  for  his  address,  which  was  said  to  have 
moved  the  hearts  of  all  present  by  its  convincing  sin- 


WHERE  YOUR  HEART  IS 

cerity  and  its  comprehensive  grasp.  Tamar,  unim- 
pressed by  names,  and  free  from  the  awe  of  personality, 
thought  all  these  speakers  exceedingly  prosy,  and  even 
comic.  She  longed  to  know,  as  she  looked  round, 
whether  the  audience  were  really  being  impressed  or 
only  pretending  to  be  impressed.  She  thought  prob- 
ably only  pretending  because  of  the  names.  But 
wouldn't  it  even  be  better  business  as  well  as  common 
sense  to  reach  them  really  by  the  real  thing?  Wouldn't 
their  purses  come  out  more  heavily  laden  and  with 
greater  alacrity,  if  some  one  rose  up  to  draw  a  picture 
for  them,  for  instance,  of  the  Cargoes  of  Mercy? 

Why  wasn't  Bramfield  speaking?  It  was  ridiculous 
that  he  was  not  speaking.  Or  why  hadn't  they  made 
Gertrude  Linton  come  over?  She  would  have  vitalized 
the  meeting  at  once  and  exhilarated  every  one,  including 
the  Dignitaries  of  the  Church.  She  would  have  con- 
jured up  for  them  the  harrowing  scene  of  the  avalanche 
of  panic-stricken  refugees  pouring  over  the  Dutch  fron- 
tier. She  would  have  presented  to  them  a  vision  of  the 
Relief  Ship  they  had  seen,  with  its  tons  of  rice  and  salt 
and  corn  and  that  condensed  milk  ardently  longed  for 
so  that  the  lives  of  the  starving  little  ones  might  be 
saved.  She  would  have  waved  a  wand  and  lo !  the  of- 
ficial messenger  between  Rotterdam  and  Brussels  would 
have  dashed  on  the  platform,  with  his  passport  framed 
and  hanging  round  his  neck  ready  for  all  arrests  and 
all  contingencies.  Another  wave  of  the  wand,  and  her 
friend  the  Captain  would  have  been  there  imploring  for 
a  convoy  against  the  perils  presented  by  the  English 
lady  from  Groningen,  and  pretending  to  ignore  congrat- 
ulations on  having  run  his  vessel  through  the  mine-fields 
in  the  dark  and  taken  the  sporting  risk  of  disaster  be- 


244      WHERE  YOUR  HEART  IS 

cause  of  the  crying  need  for  bread  and  salt.  Bread  and 
salt  —  words  burnt  into  the  brain  for  evermore. 
Wouldn't  some  one  get  up  and  call  them  aloud? 
Wasn't  there  any  one  who  was  going  to  read  some  of 
the  appeals  for  help  from  the  burgomasters  or  priests 
of  the  villages  and  communes?  No  appeals  could  be 
more  touching  in  their  simplicity  and  directness,  and 
far  more  powerful  as  an  influence  than  all  the  vague 
rhetoric  of  these  distinguished  but  boring  Personages 
with  names. 

Some  of  the  sentences  echoed  back  to  her: 

"  In  the  name  of  humanity  help  us." 

"  The  communal  funds  are  finished,  and  if  you  come 
not  to  help  us,  God  knows  what  will  become  of  us." 

"  Everything  is  missing.  We  are  in  want  of  pota- 
toes, peas,  beans,  grain,  flour,  meat,  bacon,  clothes, 
wooden  shoes,  petroleum." 

"  Our  communes  are  without  resources.  We  have 
finished  our  short  report.  We  have  not  dramatized  it." 

"  Alas !  the  children  born  during  this  war,  of  mothers 
enfeebled  by  worries  and  privations,  are  very  delicate." 

What  a  thousand  pities  that  there  was  no  one  to 
speak  these  words  aloud,  no  one  to  tell  the  audience  of 
the  amazingly  clever  machinery  of  the  American  Relief 
Commission,  and  of  the  enthusiasm  and  disinterestedness 
of  all  the  people  she  had  seen  working  to  help  the  Bel- 
gians under  the  heel  of  the  Germans  in  Belgium  and  the 
refugees  in  Holland  —  no  one  to  show  them  even  a 
glimpse  of  the  concentration  camps,  the  granaries,  the 
railway  sheds,  the  barge  packed  with  homeless,  hounded 
men,  women  and  children  —  no  one  to  tell  them  the 
story  of  Marie  Louise,  and  show  them  the  dark  hold, 
and  in  the  dim  light  of  the  lamp  a  young  girl  moaning 


WHERE  YOUR  HEART  IS      245 

and  rocking  herself  to  and  fro  —  lost,  unknown,  un- 
claimed ... 

Why,  she  herself  could  tell  them  —  she,  Tamar,  who 
had  never  made  a  speech  in  her  life.  She  could  tell  them 
how  it  had  all  affected  her,  and  how  the  scenes  and  the 
sufferings  she  had  witnessed  and  the  tales  she  had  heard 
had  burnt  themselves  into  her  brain  for  evermore.  And 
why  shouldn't  she  tell  them?  Why  not?  Why 
shouldn't  she  stand  up  and  stop  that  dull  Personage 
and  tell  them  a  few  real  things  instead? 

Almost  she  rose  to  her  feet.  Never  before  had  she 
felt  so  impersonal,  so  disinterested,  so  concerned  for 
large  issues.  When  such  a  crisis  comes  to  any  one,  all 
barriers  are  broken  down  and  all  impossibilities  sur- 
mounted and  all  consequences  ignored.  Another  min- 
ute —  and  Tamar  would  have  spoken,  improbable 
though  it  seems.  Another  minute  —  and  she  would 
have  disgraced  herself  and  Bramfield,  and  outraged  the 
assembly  by  an  outburst  of  sincerity  and  truthfulness 
and  by  a  protest  against  the  dull,  disheartening,  devi- 
talizing methods  of  a  representative  platform  of  Names- 
Highly-Placed-in-all-Walks-of-Prosperous-Life. 

What  prevented  her,  what  restrained  her?  It  was 
Bramfield  himself,  who  had  slipped  in  to  sit  next  to  her. 
By  the  merest  chance  —  and  providentially  for  him  — 
her  eyes  met  his.  He  was  looking  at  her  proudly, 
kindly,  evidently  delighted  to  have  her  there  and  to  be 
able  to  send  her  a  silent  message  of  greeting.  His 
words  were  wafted  to  her : 

"With  you  as  ally,  my  Tamar,  everything  will  be 
possible  to  me." 

Ah,  she  must  not  fail  Bramfield  —  Bramfield,  who 
loved  and  trusted  her,  and  who  had  asked  her  to  come  to 


246      WHERE  YOUR  HEART  IS 

the  meeting  to  hearten  and  support  him,  not  to  discon- 
cert him.  She  would  tell  him  what  she  thought  about  it 
afterwards.  She  wouldn't  spare  him.  But  she  must 
not  embarrass  him  now  —  no  — •  certainly  not  —  why, 
she  had  been  mad  —  she,  Tamar,  to  think  of  such  a 
thing  —  entirely  mad  —  the  harrowing  scenes  brought 
back  to  her  remembrance  had  got  into  her  brain  —  that 
is  how  it  was  —  just  that.  .  .  . 

So  the  moment  of  danger  passed,  known  to  no  one 
save  herself.  The  Personage  droned  on.  Others  suc- 
ceeded him  with  addresses  from  which  all  real  stirring 
details  and  all  human  touches  were  absent.  The  meet- 
ing came  to  a  conclusion  in  an  avalanche  of  compliments 
to  all  the  speakers.  It  was  pronounced  by  the  news 
papers  to  have  been  brilliantly  successful,  stimulating, 
and  profoundly  moving,  the  agony  of  Belgium  having 
been  described  by  the  galaxy  of  Names  in  words  which 
wrung  the  heart. 

When   Tamar  read  the   reports,   she  marvelled,  as 
many  others  marvel  when  they  read  reports. 


CHAPTER  III 

IT  was  about  eleven  o'clock  one  night  at  the  end  of 
September  when  a  ring  came  at  Tamar's  shop  door, 
a  long  and  persistent  ring.  She  had  not  yet  gone  to 
bed,  for  she  was  trying  to  make  up  her  mind  which  of 
her  stones  she  would  part  with  next.  She  had  already 
parted  with  several,  secretly  and  after  great  mental 
agony  —  not  her  choicest  treasures,  it  is  true,  but 
some  she  prized  very  highly.  They  were  of  consider- 
able value  and  had  brought  in  large  sums,  which  she  had 
dispatched  anonymously  to  the  Red  Cross  and  to  other 
organizations  which  were  appealing  for  funds. 

She  had  the  idea  now  firmly  implanted  in  her  mind 
that  she  must  no  longer  hoard  for  her  secret  pleasure 
so  many  lovely  things.  Her  talk  with  Bramfield  about 
her  mother  had  to  a  certain  extent  set  her  free  to  pur- 
sue her  own  course  unimpeded  by  the  past. 

Sacrifice  seemed  to  be  the  order  of  the  day.  Scarcely 
an  afternoon  passed  without  some  one  coming  in  to  sell 
jewels,  or  old  silver,  or  some  antique  greatly  prized. 
From  long  years  of  keen  observation,  Tamar  knew  at 
once  when  a  real  sacrifice  was  being  made  for  an  unselfish 
object.  She  knew  those  signs  as  well  as  she  knew  when 
some  society  woman,  head  over  heels  in  debt,  dashed  in 
to  raise  ready  money  on  her  jewels,  and  avert  disgrace 
and  exposure.  Human  nature,  she  believed,  had  been 
to  her  an  easy  book  to  read;  but  the  pages  she  was 
turning  over  now,  chronicled  with  records  of  unselfish- 
ness, patriotism,  public-spiritedness  and  impersonal 

247 


248      WHERE  YOUR  HEART  IS 

concern,  had  puzzled  her  not  a  little  at  first,  because 
they  were  not  isolated  passages,  such  as  she  might  have 
picked  out  easily  before  as  exceptional  incidents,  but  a 
whole  continuous  story  in  the  same  vein.  At  the  begin- 
ning she  had  put  up  an  obfetinatc,  logged,  almost  angry 
resistance  to  this  avalanche  of  influences  emanating  even 
from  her  own  business  dealings.  But  it  had  broken 
down.  Old  silver,  old  snuff-boxes,  etuis,  bonbonnieres, 
enamels,  china,  hideous  and  cherished  old  family  jewels, 
old  gold,  antiques  of  every  kind  —  and  old  people,  trem- 
bling and  eager,  stormed  the  shop  in  Dean  Street,  and 
told  her  plainly  enough  that  she,  too,  must  make  sac- 
rifices. 

Finally  she  accepted  the  misfortuHe  as  part  of  the 
general  "  churn  up,"  and  was  succumbing  to  it  tonight, 
though  not  without  her  usual  attack  of  misery  over  the 
tragedy  of  parting  with  yet  another  passionately  loved 
possession.  Her  hesitation  between  a  very  beautiful 
turquoise  and  a  second-rate  but  interesting  sapphire 
was  cut  short  by  the  sound  of  the  bell.  When  she 
opened  the  door,  she  found  Gertrude  Linton  with  a  small 
suit-case  and  a  bundle,  and  a  young  woman  who  was 
carrying  a  baby. 

"  T.  Scott,"  Miss  Linton  said,  "  you  promised  you'd 
take  any  one  in  I  brought  suddenly.  Is  it  all  right  ?  " 

"  Come  in,"  Tamar  said,  her  face  lighting  up  with  a 
smile  of  welcome,  and  all  her  misery  of  renunciation  for- 
gotten. "  I'm  so  glad  you've  come.  I  don't  mind  whom 
you  bring,  as  long  as  you  come  yourself." 

"  Ah,  it's  nice  to  hear  you  say  that,"  Miss  Linton 
said.  "  But  I  knew  you  would  not  fail.  We've  had 
such  a  bad  crossing  from  Flushing,  and  only  narrowly 
escaped  being  torpedoed.  But  here  we  are,  safe  and 


WHERE  YOUR  HEART  IS      249 

sound.  Now,  T.  Scott,  we  must  just  get  this  poor  thing 
to  bed.  You  must  trot  out  your  French  and  say  some- 
thing to  cheer  her.  Don't  be  frightened  of  the  baby. 
The  baby  won't  eat  you.  Why,  do  you  know,  I  nearly 
brought  two  or  three  others  with  me.  So  you're  really 
lucky  to  have  only  one  foisted  on  you !  Tell  Madame 
Guerin  she  has  a  very  beautiful  child.  That  will  put 
her  at  her  ease." 

Tamar,  who  did  not  know  one  baby  from  another, 
murmured  something  about  un  ires  joli  petit  enfant. 

The  result  was  successful,  for  young  Madame  Guerin 
brightened  up  at  once,  and  let  forth  a  volley  of  language 
in  admiration  of  the  baby  and  in  gratitude  to  Miss  Lin- 
ton  for  bringing  her  and  Tamar  for  receiving  her. 

"  It's  all  she  has  got,"  Gertrude  Linton  explained. 
"  She  is  from  Aerschot.  Her  husband  has  been  killed 
at  the  front,  also  her  two  brothers,  and  her  little 
brother  of  sixteen  shot  before  her  eyes  for  trying  to 
rescue  his  young  sister  from  the  German  soldiers.  I 
wonder  she  has  remained  in  her  right  senses.  I  sup- 
pose the  baby  helped  her.  She  has  been  waiting  for 
some  weeks  in  the  Friends'  hostel  at  Flushing  until  she 
heard  from  an  aunt  she  has  at  Tulse  Hill.  I'll  get  her 
there  tomorrow,  so  we  won't  be  upsetting  you  for  long." 

"  She  must  stay  till  you  have  made  all  the  arrange- 
ments properly,"  Tamar  said. 

"  I  knew  you  would  not  fail  me,"  Miss  Linton  re- 
peated, with  a  sigh  of  content.  "  When  this  poor  thing 
came  into  my  hands,  I  marked  her  down  for  you.  I 
said :  '  T.  Scott's  bedroom  for  her  and  the  baby,  my 
Jacobean  couch  for  me,  where  I  was  very  comfortable 
on  a  previous  occasion,  thank  you,  and  any  old  where 
for  T.Scott  herself!'" 


250      WHERE  YOUR  HEART  IS 

Tamar  laughed.  She  was  very  happy  that  Gertrude 
Linton  had  believed  she  would  not  fail  her. 

The  young  mother  and  her  babe  were  put  to  bed 
warm  and  snug  in  Tamar's  room.  Madame  Guerin 
kept  on  murmuring,  with  tears  rolling  down  her  cheeks : 

"  I  have  my  little  one  safe  —  I  have  my  little  one 
safe." 

It  was  her  one  thought,  and,  as  Gertrude  Linton  said, 
it  kept  at  bay,  mercifully,  for  a  time,  the  remembrance 
of  her  losses  and  of  the  tragedies  she  had  been  through. 

As  they  left  her  and  went  downstairs,  Miss  Linton 
said: 

"  Do  you  remember  the  other  little  babe  we  saw  to- 
gether when  we  were  on  one  of  our  quests  for  Marie 
Louise?  " 

**  Yes,"  Tamar  answered.  "  I  shall  never  forget  the 
face  of  that  little  one,  calm  with  the  dignity  and  mys- 
tery of  death." 

"  And  what  of  Marie  Louise  ?  "  asked  Gertrude  Lin- 
ton. "  Do  you  ever  see  her?  " 

"  No,"  Tamar  said,  shaking  her  head.  "  They 
judged  it  best  that  she  should  not  see  any  one  connected 
with  that  tragic  time  in  her  life.  And  perhaps  they 
were  right.  But  I  do  not  forget  Marie  Louise.  She 
became  very  dear  to  me.  It  was  a  wrench  to  part  from 
her." 

She  added : 

"  They  say  she  has  recovered,  and  that  her  eyes  are 
bright  once  more,  and  that  her  laughter  rings  through 
the  house.  It  does  not  seem  possible,  does  it  ?  " 

"  Greater  miracles  have  happened  than  that,"  said 
Gertrude  Linton  gently;  and  perhaps  she  may  have 
thought  of  the  miracle  which  appeared  to  have  taken 


WHERE  YOUR  HEART  IS      251 

place  in  the  case  of  this  dealer  in  antique  jewellery  and 
precious  stones. 

For  long  hours  they  talked  over  the  fire  in  the  inner 
room.  Miss  Linton  was  deeply  concerned  over  the  news 
that  Bramfield's  boy  was  a  prisoner  in  Germany.  She 
said  that  the  country  was  not  half  realizing  the  tragedy 
of  the  fate  of  the  prisoners.  Rumours  were  coming 
through  to  Holland  that  they  were  bemg  starved  and 
ill-treated  and  insulted,  and  apparently  with  no  one  to 
intervene  on  their  behalf.  She  had  heard  reports  direct 
from  some  of  the  American  Relief  Commission  people 
who  were  able  to  enter  Germany.  And  she  herself  had 
seen  and  spoken  to  two  escaped  soldiers  who  had,  after 
innumerable  hardships,  made  their  way  over  the  fron- 
tier at  Maestricht. 

"  Never  shall  I  forget  the  look  on  their  faces,"  she 
said,  "  nor  their  joy  in  talking  to  a  countrywoman  and 
in  knowing  that  they  were  in  friendly  hands  and  would 
not  be  betrayed.  I  could  weep  over  the  prisoners  —  all 
of  them  —  soldiers  and  civilians  alike.  The  thought 
of  them  stirs  me  more  than  anything.  There  is  noth- 
ing I  would  not  do  or  be  to  help  them  if  I  could.  The 
plight  of  the  civilians  is  bad  enough.  You  know  I've 
been  put  on  the  Committee  of  Reception  at  the  frontier 
to  look  after  them  when  they  are  exchanged  —  and,  T. 
Scott,  the  sights  I've  seen  —  I  could  weep." 

She  was  so  greatly  overcome  by  emotion  that  she  did 
weep. 

"  We  over  there,  who  see  the  sights,  feel  that  we  can 
never  rest  nor  give  any  one  any  rest  until  something 
is  arranged  about  them,"  she  said.  "  There  ought  to 
be  a  storm  party  keeping  up  a  continuous  attack  on  our 
comfortable  officials  in  their  comfortable  offices  here 


252      WHERE  YOUR  HEART  IS 

until  every  soldier  and  every  civilian  has  been  ex- 
changed." 

She  broke  off  to  dry  her  tears,  and  then  went  on : 

"  The  people  in  England  must  be  made  to  under- 
stand ;  but  it  will  takes  ages  before  they  wake  up.  And 
meantime  the  suffering  increases  —  the  unnecessary  suf- 
fering. I  can't  get  a  poor  old  civilian  from  Ruhleben 
out  of  my  mind.  He  was  about  seventy  years  old,  or 
nearly,  and  poor  old  fellow  —  he  had  gone  queer  in  the 
head,  like  Marie  Louise,  you  know.  He  told  me  sol- 
emnly that  he  was  going  to  divorce  his  wife  when  he  got 
back  to  England.  And  I  believe  the  truth  was,  that 
they  were  most  devoted  to  each  other  and  had  lived  in 
the  same  house  in  the  same  suburb  for  about  thirty 
years." 

She  smiled  in  spite  of  herself. 

"  I  call  that  a  feat,  don't  you?  "  she  said.  "  It's 
more  than  I  could  do." 

And  then  she  added : 

"  Poor  old  man  —  poor  old  fellow  —  I  was  more  up- 
set about  him  than  any  one  I've  seen,  because  he  was 
old  —  and  the  old  cannot  bear  these  shocks  —  they  sim- 
ply cannot  —  and  it  is  cruel  they  should  have  to.  Why 
are  you  staring  at  me,  T.  Scott?  You  think  I'm  an 
awful  fool,  don't  you  ?  " 

"  I  was  thinking,"  Tamar  said  dreamily,  "  that  if  I 
lived  to  be  a  thousand  years  old  in  the  same  house,  in 
the  same  street,  in  the  same  suburb,  I  could  never  be  as 
disinterested  as  you.  I  suppose  it  is  born  in  one  and 
cannot  be  acquired." 

"  Still  a  bee  in  your  bonnet  about  disinterestedness," 
Gertrude  Linton  laughed. 


WHERE  YOUR  HEART  IS      253 

"  Yes,"  Tamar  answered,  "  if  you  like  to  put  it  that 
way." 

"  And  what  about  those  generous  cheques  you've  been 
sending  to  Holland?  "  Gertrude  Linton  asked.  "  You 
have  not  any  idea  how  pleased  we  have  all  been  —  the 
Commission  for  Relief,  and  the  Friends,  and  the  Dutch 
Committee,  and  the  English  lady  at  Groningen,  to  say 
nothing  of  myself.  I  wish  you  could  see  some  of  the 
people  we  have  clothed  with  your  money." 

"  It  has  only  been  money,"  Tamar  said  slowly. 

"  Only  money  ?  "  Miss  Linton  repeated.  "  Well,  I 
don't  mind  having  as  much  more  '  only  money  '  as  you 
choose  to  send." 

"  It  isn't  enough,"  Tamar  said  sulkily.  "  One  has  to 
part  with  one's  treasures.  I  find  that  very  difficult. 
But  those  words  you  said  about  my  precious  stones, 
which  I  tried  to  hide  from  you  that  night  you  were  here, 
haunted  me.  I  tried  to  forget  them,  but  could  not." 

"  Oh,  but  they  were  only  said  in  fun,  in  my  irrespon- 
sible way  which  no  one  ought  to  take  any  notice  of," 
Gertrude  Linton  insisted. 

"  Before  you  came  tonight,"  Tamar  continued,  "  I 
was  trying  to  make  up  my  mind  to  part  with  a  favourite 
turquoise.  It  will  be  far  easier  now  you  are  here." 

"  Let  me  see  it,"  Gertrude  Linton  said.  She  was 
greatly  touched  by  Tamar's  attitude  to  her. 

Tamar  laid  it  almost  reverently  in  the  palm  of  Ger- 
trude Linton's  hand. 

"  It  is  Persian,"  she  said  softly.  "  From  the  Abdur- 
rezzagi  mines  in  Mishapur  province." 

This  was  double  Dutch  to  her  friend,  but  she  was  evi- 
dently expected  to  feel  impressed  by  the  information, 


WHERE  YOUR  HEART  IS 

and  consequently  she  did  look  both  impressed  and  awe- 
stricken.  Her  sympathetic  nature  which  never  failed 
at  a  crisis,  enabled  her  to  know  that  T.  Scott  was  really 
suffering,  and  that  the  sacrifice  she  was  proposing  to 
make,  meant  a  great  deal  to  her.  She  learnt  that  this 
was  by  no  means  the  first  treasure  to  be  sacrificed. 
Little  by  little  she  wormed  it  out  of  Tamar  that  many 
favourite  possessions  had  been  sold  and  the  money  sent 
anonymously  to  several  destinations. 

"  But  often  grudgingly,  very  grudgingly,"  poor 
Tamar  confessed. 

And  no  one  knew,  no  one  was  to  know.  Tamar  was 
very  emphatic  about  that.  No,  she  had  not  told  Bram- 
field.  Bramfield  was  not  to  know,  though  he  had  made 
it  easier  for  her  by  something  he  had  said.  One  day 
she  would  tell  him,  perhaps,  but  she  wanted  to  wait  until 
she  could  say  truthfully  that  what  she  was  doing  was 
done  with  joy  and  not  with  a  struggle. 

"  And  probably  that  will  never  be,"  she  said,  with  a 
pathetic  little  smile  which  went  straight  to  Gertrude 
Linton's  heart.  "  Now,  you  would  simply  throw  them 
round.  I  can't  help  envying  you." 

"  But  then  you  see,  I  don't  care,"  her  friend  ex- 
plained. "  I'm  built  that  way.  You  are  not.  All  the 
more  credit  to  you  if  you  can  give  up  some  of  your 
precious  stones.  I  think  it  is  ripping  of  you,  T.  Scott. 
No,  I  won't  betray  you,  especially  if  you  shut  my  mouth 
with  one  or  two  for  the  prisoners  and  refugees !  With- 
out a  bribe,  I  cannot  answer  for  my  silence." 

Tamar  laughed  her  soft  laugh. 

"  You  shall  have  the  turquoise,"  she  said,  "  and  this 
sapphire  which  will  go  next  —  if  I  can  screw  myself 
up  to  part  with  it." 


WHERE  YOUR  HEART  IS      255 

"  The  turquoise  for  the  Belgians,"  Miss  Linton  said, 
"  and  the  sapphire  for  the  prisoners.  I  hope  its  hour 
will  come  soon;  I  think  it  will,  somehow.  You  don't 
look  like  any  of  the  comfortable  officials  in  their  com- 
fortable offices,  making  delays  which  neither  they  nor  we 
understand." 

"  Its  hour  has  come  now,"  Tamar  said,  turning  away. 
"  The  prisoners  can  have  it  now.  But  you  mustn't  stop 
here  for  long.  You  would  end  by  getting  everything 
out  of  me." 

"  You  are  a  trump,"  Gertrude  Linton  said,  her  face 
radiant  with  pleasure.  And  she  clutched  Tamar  by  th< 
arm  and  swung  her  round. 

"  Do  you  know  you  are  looking  very  beautiful  ?  "  she 
said.  "  And  years  younger." 

"  So  Bramfield  tells  me,"  Tamar  laughed,  blushing. 

"Ah,  that's  it,  is  it?"  said  Gertrude  Linton,  guess- 
ing the  truth.  "  I  am  glad  he  has  that  solace  in  his 
anxiety." 

Whilst  Gertrude  Linton  slept  on  the  Jacobean  couch, 
forgetful  of  Belgian  widows  and  babies  and  English 
prisoners  of  war  and  all  their  sufferings,  Tamar  pon- 
dered afresh  over  that  wonderful  quality,  disinterested- 
ness, which  was  as  much  a  revelation  to  her  as  a  sunrise 
to  eyes  who  have  never  seen  one  —  haunting,  full  of 
strange  surprises,  loveliness  after  loveliness  unfolding 
itself  and  fading  away,  as  if  of  no  moment,  with  no 
trace  left  of  its  radiant  share  in  the  glory,  and  yet  part 
of  the  glory,  the  whole  glory. 

"  If  I'm  not  careful,  that  woman  will  get  my  best  ruby 
out  of  me.  She's  dangerous,  because  disinterested," 
Tamar  thought,  before  she  too  went  to  sleep. 


256      WHERE  YOUR  HEART  IS 

In  the  morning  the  old  char  found  the  remains  of  a 
good  supper  on  the  kitchen  table,  and  an  empty  bottle 
of  Tamar's  best  wine.  In  the  inner  room  she  discov- 
ered Tamar  asleep  in  the  easy  chair,  and  a  woman  with 
her  hair  tumbling  over  her  rolled  up  in  a  rug  on  the 
Jacobean  couch.  From  upstairs  came  the  sound  of  a 
baby  crying  and  a  foreigner's  voice  singing  to  it  in  some 
strange  gibberish. 

"  Well,"  she  said,  "  these  be  queer  times,  and  no  mis- 
take. Milk  for  the  cat  —  a  fire  in  the  kitchen  —  peo- 
ple coming  and  going  —  food  for  every  one  —  love- 
making  over  the  counter  —  parcels  for  prisoners  —  and 
a  baby  screaming  upstairs.  It  fair  takes  my  breath 
away." 

It  fair  took  Tamar's  breath  away  when  she  awoke  to 
the  unwonted  screaming.  She  had  to  remind  herself 
that  it  was  only  part  of  the  churn  up. 


CHAPTER  IV 

BUT  for  all  her  screaming,  the  little  Belgian  baby 
was  not  hustled  off  the  following  day.  She  was 
settled  snugly  and  warmly  in  a  beautiful  old  oaken  box 
in  the  inner  room,  and  was  visited  at  frequent  intervals 
by  every  one,  including  the  old  char,  whose  one  and 
only  remark  was : 

"  Well,  I  never  — =  no,  I  never !  " 

Gertrude  Linton  had  gone  off  to  Tulse  Hill  to  make 
inquiries  about  Madame  Guerin's  aunt.  She  left  word 
with  Tamar  that  if  Bramfield  called  during  her  absence, 
he  was  to  be  asked  to  look  in  again  that  evening  and 
bring  with  him  the  last  details  he  had  received  concern- 
ing Bruce.  She  thought  that  his  friend,  the  American 
military  attache  at  The  Hague,  might  be  able  to  make 
inquiries  about  the  boy,  and  that  news  of  him  would 
come  through  quicker  in  this  way  than  by  the  usual 
machinery  of  intelligence.  Or,  better  still,  why  should 
not  Bramfield  come  to  Holland  and  ask  the  attache 
himself?  He  had  been  long  overdue  at  the  Commission, 
where  they  wanted  his  advice.  And  if  he  came,  would 
not  Tamar  come  also  and  see  the  many  changes  which 
the  Dutch  had  effected  in  their  arrangements  for  their 
refugee  guests? 

"  And  I  would  like  you  to  see  the  reconstruction  work 
of  the  Friends  at  the  concentration  camps,"  she  said, 
"  especially  at  Uden,  where  I  em  stationed.  The 
women's  work-room,  too,  where  they  make  wool  carpets 
and  rugs,  under  our  supervision.  Our  friend,  the  Com- 

257 


258      WHERE  YOUR  HEART  IS 

mandant  kept  his  word  and  sent  for  us.  So  the  wool 
came  in  useful." 

What  about  the  shop?  Oh,  Bramfield  could  put 
some  one  in  to  look  after  it.  He  had  done  this  before, 
hadn't  he?  Yes,  Tamar  said  he  had,  and  she  supposed 
he  could  easily  arrange  again.  But  she  was  not  sure 
she  wanted  to  go.  It  was  not  her  habit  to  upset  her 
everyday  life  in  this  sudden  fashion.  Gertrude  Linton 
thought  that  quite  absurd.  It  was  a  good  thing  for 
people's  everyday  life  to  be  deranged  and  the  even 
tenor  of  their  ways  disturbed,  provided,  of  course,  that 
they  were  not  old. 

"  It  is  always  the  old  people  that  tear  at  my  heart," 
she  said.  "  I  shall  not  easily  forget  the  day  when  the 
Friends  put  up  the  first  cottage  at  the  concentration 
camp  at  Uden,  and  an  aged  Belgian  woman  and  her  two 
grandchildren  entered  into  possession  of  it.  She  wept 
with  joy  to  have  a  little  home  of  her  own  again,  a  pri- 
vate, personal,  separate  haven  of  her  own.  Poor  old 
lady  —  she  had  indeed  had  her  habits  upset.  Now,  T. 
Scott,  listen  to  me.  It  isn't  every  one  that  has  the 
chance  of  going  to  Holland.  The  Government  makes 
it  more  difficult  every  week.  But  you  could  get  through 
as  my  assistant,  and  you  could  help  me  with  the  girls' 
work-room.  Now,  don't  be  '  stuffy,'  but  just  turn  it 
over  in  your  mind  whilst  I  go  off  to  Tulse  Hill.  The 
more  I  think  of  it,  the  more  I  want  you  to  come  back 
with  me.  And  take  care  of  the  baby.  And  give  the 
mother  some  stitching  to  do.  And  if  she  weeps,  admire 
the  baby  and  call  it '  chou-chou.'  Now  I'm  off." 

Tamar  rose  to  the  occasion,  and  when  Madame 
Guerin  showed  signs  of  beginning  to  weep,  she  admired 


WHERE  YOUR  HEART  IS      259 

the  baby  and  called  it  "  chou-chou,"  and  various  other 
names  which  she  looked  out  laboriously  in  the  diction- 
ary. But  it  was  a  relief  when  Bramfield  arrived  and 
carried  on  an  animated  conversation  with  Madame 
Guerin,  which  restored  her  spirits  more  effectually  than 
any  of  Tamar's  awkward  attempts.  She  could  not  but 
love  him  afresh,  in  her  own  queer  way.  His  kindness 
and  gentleness  and  unselfishness  always  touched  her  and 
filled  her  with  admiration.  In  a  moment  he  was  able  to 
put  aside  his  own  troubles  and  anxieties  in  order  to 
comfort  and  encourage  this  poor  young  widow,  the 
tragedy  of  whose  tale  roused  all  his  sympathy  and  indig- 
nation. 

"  Tamar,"  he  cried,  "  don't  you  see  we  can  never  do 
enough  for  these  people?  But  for  them,  the  Germans 
would  have  been  here,  and  Madame  Guerin's  story,  the 
story  of  thousands  in  Belgium,  could  have  been  the 
story  of  any  woman  in  England.  When  I  think  of  all 
the  awful  things  I've  heard  of  their  barbarous  doings, 
I  don't  know  how  to  contain  myself.  I  know  I  would 
give  my  soul  to  be  a  young  man  —  and  in  the  fighting 
line.  I  never  in  my  life  envied  any  one  except  Bruce 
when  he  went  to  the  front.  And  I  envy  him  now,  poor 
lad,  whatever  his  fate,  because  it  is  for  his  country's 
sake  that  he  has  got  his  wounds  and  lost  his  liberty." 

Tom  Thornton,  who  had  been  at  an  aerodrome  all 
this  time,  came  whilst  Bramfield  was  there.  He  was 
wearing  the  double  wings  of  a  flying  officer,  and  was 
very  pleased  with  himself,  though  just  as  boyishly  light- 
hearted  as  ever. 

"  Yes,"  he  said,  in  answer  to  their  congratulations, 
"  I'm  the  real  thing  now.  And  I  expect  to  be  posted  to 


260      WHERE  YOUR  HEART  IS 

the  Expeditionary  Force  in  a  week  or  two,  and  with  a 
new  squadron  going  out  for  the  first  time.  A  piece  of 
luck  that,  as  I  shall  have  my  pals  with  me.  So  now  I'm 
going  to  have  my  chance  of  helping  to  strafe  the  Boche. 
I'm  so  excited  I  don't  know  how  to  keep  quiet.  I  don't 
try." 

Bramfield  put  his  hand  on  the  lad's  shoulder. 

"  I  envy  you,"  he  said,  with  great  emotion.  "  It's 
simply  maddening  not  to  be  young  at  this  time." 

"  It's  jolly  good  being  young,  sir,"  Tom  said,  smil- 
ing and  thinking  old  Bramfield  was  a  funny  old  cuss. 

Bramfield  turned  to  Tamar  and  said : 

"  You  ought  to  find  one  of  your  mascots  for  him. 
You  have  some  interesting  ones  somewhere." 

"  She  gave  me  one  long  ago,"  Tom  said.  "  Miss 
Scott  and  I  are  special  friends,  you  know  —  have  been, 
ever  since  she  came  to  Marton  Grange  and  told  us  the 
precious  stones  were  worth  pots  of  money.  Good  piece 
of  news  that,  sir.  Good  tuning  up  fqr  the  stunt  of 
friendly  understanding." 

He  fumbled  at  his  neck  and  drew  out  a  ribbon  with 
Tamar's  queer  old  talisman  attached  to  it.  Bramfield 
looked  at  it  and  nodded. 

*'  That  ought  to  keep  you  safe,"  he  said.  "  Ruby 
and  turquoise." 

And  Tamar,  as  if  again  impelled  by  some  mystic 
power,  closed  her  eyes  and  swayed  to  and  fro. 

"  From  all  dangers  of  earth,  sea  and  air,  from  all 
dangers  of  earth,  sea  and  air,  from  all  dangers  of  earth, 
sea  and  air,"  she  murmured. 

Tom  himself  broke  the  spell. 

"  Well,"  he  said,  "  if  that  doesn't  keep  me  safe,  noth- 


WHERE  YOUR  HEART  IS      261 

ing  will.  But  it  will.  I  shall  be  all  right.  Of  course 
I  think  it  my  duty  to  cheer  up  the  Mater  at  intervals 
by  saying  I  won't.  And  that  reminds  me,  she  wants 
you  to  come  tonight.  Will  you?  I'll  hop  round  and 
fetch  you." 

"  No,  I  can't  come  tonight,"  Tamar  said.  "  I  have 
Miss  Linton  from  Holland  staying  here.  She  came  last 
evening  with  a  Belgian  refugee  and  a  baby." 

She  laughed  as  she  spoke.  It  struck  her  as  being 
funny  that  domestic  responsibilities  should  keep  her  at 
home. 

"  I  know,"  Tom  said,  "  suppose  we  all  come  here  — 
every  one  of  us,  including  the  Mater.  She'd  come  any 
old  distance  to  see  a  baby  —  brave  any  dangers  of 
earth,  sea  and  air,  gas,  poisoned  bombs  and  all  other 
amenities  of  this  civilized  war.  Could  you  do  with  the 
whole  lot  —  some  of  the  tribe  you  saw  last  time  you 
came  to  us?  Big  order,  but  rather  fun.  About  nine 
or  ten  of  us  —  all  the  Thorntons,  two  of  the  fellows  you 
saw  before,  and  one  or  two  of  the  girls'  friends." 

"Why  not?"  Tamar  said,  a  little  taken  aback,  but 
pleased  with  the  idea. 

"  Cheerioh,"  he  said.     "  I'm  off  to  tell  them." 

"  Bramfield,"  Tamar  said,  with  sudden  panic  after 
Tom  had  dashed  away.  "  I've  never  had  a  party. 
You'll  be  here  for  certain,  won't  you?  Miss  Linton  is 
expecting  to  see  you." 

"  Of  course,"  he  answered,  smiling.  "  It's  my  home 
now,  in  a  sort  of  way,  isn't  it?  Always  has  been  the 
home  of  my  spirit  for  years  and  years." 

"  If  we  married,  you'd  not  expect  me  to  leave  this 
place?  "  she  asked  dreamily. 

"  I  could  not  think  of  you  in  any  other  home  except 


262  WHERE  YOUR  HEART  IS 

Dean  Street,  nor  in  any  other  den  except  the  inner 
room,"  he  answered. 

She  nodded.     She  seemed  relieved. 

"  I've  had  a  panic  about  that,"  she  said. 

"  You  need  not,"  he  said.  "  I  simply  couldn't  think 
of  you  in  any  other  setting.  You'd  be  like  a  precious 
stone  mounted  wrong.  Don't  have  a  panic  about  that. 
Don't  have  a  panic  about  anything.  I'm  going  to  tell 
you  something." 

"  What's  that  ?  "  she  asked,  a  little  uneasily. 

"  You  must  be  free,  my  Tamar,"  he  said,  star- 
ing fixedly  at  the  floor.  "  I  believe  you  feel  chained 
up." 

"  Yes,  a  bit,"  she  said,  also  staring  at  the  floor. 

"  You  regret  the  embraces  we've  exchanged  ?  "  he  said. 

"  No,  no,"  she  said,  turning  to  him  quickly.  "  No, 
no." 

"  You  dread  marriage  —  don't  want  it?  "  he  asked. 

"  I  don't  want  marriage  yet,  Bramfield,"  she  said. 
"  I  dread  giving  up  my  liberty  —  I've  always  been 
free  —  I  cannot  pretend  I  should  like  it  —  I  shouldn't 
—  at  least  sometimes  —  very  often,  I  think  I  shouldn't." 

"  Then  let's  go  back  to  where  we  were  before,"  he 
said  very  kindly.  "  I've  been  a  fool.  I  might  have 
known  you  could  not  be  happy  that  way.  I  have 
known." 

"  We  cannot  go  back  to  where  we  were  before,  be- 
cause I  know  that  I  cannot  think  of  life  without  you, 
Bramfield,"  she  said.  "  Before,  I  could.  But  I  can- 
not now." 

"  You  can't  do  without  poor  old  Bramfield,"  he  said, 
"  and  yet  cannot  make  a  sacrifice  to  have  him.  That's 
how  it  stands,  isn't  it  ?  " 


WHERE  YOUR  HEART  IS      263 

"  Well,  it  sounds  hateful  enough,"  she  answered,  with 
an  uneasy  smile.  "  But  I  suppose  it's  true." 

"  I  also  cannot  do  without  you,"  he  said.  "  And  if 
we  married,  I  might  find  I  hadn't  got  you,  after  all. 
That  would  be  worse  than  anything.  So  that  if  you 
had  made  the  sacrifice,  you  might  have  made  it  in  vain. 
No  use,  then,  in  making  it  —  or  accepting  it.  Whereas 
now,  you  feel  you  belong  to  me  and  I  belong  to  you, 
even  though  there  is  no  union  by  marriage  or  without 
marriage.  Is  that  so?" 

"  Yes,"  she  said. 

"  You  can't  face  the  loneliness,  and  I  can't  face  the 
loneliness,  and  we've  got  to  do  the  best  we  can  with  our 
respective  natures,"  he  said.  "That's  so,  isn't  it? 
Well,  don't  let  us  try  to  solve  the  problem  just  now. 
Perhaps  it  will  solve  itself.  Perhaps  some  day  you  will 
be  coming  to  me  and  saying:  'I  don't  mind  getting 
married  to  you,  Bramfield.'  And  I  shall  answer: 
*  Much  obliged  to  you,  Tamar.  I've  been  waiting  for 
a  long  time,  and  am  quite  ready.'  Meanwhile  you'll 
wear  the  ring,  won't  you,  as  a  sign  that  you  cannot  do 
without  me?  " 

She  did  not  speak  a  word,  but  put  one  hand  over  the 
ring,  as  if  to  press  it  into  her  fingers. 

And  then  she  said: 

"  I  wonder  why  it  is  that  you  have  always  loved  me, 
Bramfield?" 

"  I  couldn't  tell  you,"  he  said.  "  But  I  always  have, 
from  the  moment  I  entered  your  shop  and  received 
my  first  bit  of  rudeness  from  you." 

"  Yes,  I  remember,"  she  said.  "  It  was  over  a  dia- 
mond. I've  never  cared  for  diamonds  in  the  same  way 
that  I  have  cared  for  rubies  and  the  other  stones. 


264      WHERE  YOUR  HEART  IS 

You  said  it  was  a  want  in  me.     That  made  me  angry." 

"  And  you  were  angry,"  he  said,  smiling.  "  Well, 
I  still  maintain  it  is  a  want.  Are  you  going  to  be  rude 
again  ?  " 

"  No,"  she  answered.  "  I  don't  suppose  I  shall  ever 
be  rude  to  you  again,  after  that  miserable  episode  of 
the  reconstructed  emerald.  I  should  be  too  frightened 
of  losing  you." 

"  You'll  never  lose  me,  my  Tamar,"  he  said. 
"  Whatever  you  do,  or  whatever  you  don't  do  now, 
you'll  never  lose  me." 

She  still  kept  her  hand  over  the  ring,  pressing  it  in 
with  fingers  that  trembled  a  little. 

"  I  don't  believe  there  is  any  one  else  on  earth  as 
fine  and  generous  as  you  are,"  she  said. 

"  Nonsense,"  he  said,  "  there  is  nothing  fine  and  gen- 
erous in  making  the  best  of  circumstances  when  one 
knows  one  cannot  face  the  loneliness  of  spirit  which 
would  ensue  if  one  didn't.  That's  the  way  to  look  at 
it.  Don't  let  us  burden  ourselves  with  the  problem. 
It  will  settle  itself.  Things  do  settle  themselves,  as 
letters  answer  themselves  if  we  leave  them  alone." 

He  had  gone  over  to  the  fireplace  and  was  leaning  his 
arm  against  the  mantelshelf.  Tamar  went  to  him. 

"  It  is  so  exactly  like  me  to  disappoint  you  at  the 
time  when  you  are  so  troubled  about  Bruce,"  she  said. 

"  You  have  not  disappointed  me,  dear  Tamar,"  he 
said.  "  If  you  had  told  me  you  could  do  without  me, 
then  I  could  not  have  raised  my  head.  But  I  can 
raise  it  now  —  high.  I  have  the  right  to.  Tamar 
cannot  do  without  me." 

He  took  both  her  hands,  brought  them  together  and 
kissed  them  —  and  let  them  go. 


WHERE  YOUR  HEART  IS      265 

"  And  now,"  he  said,  gathering  himself  together, 
"  I'm  off,  saying  '  cheerioh,'  like  your  friend  Tom.  I'll 
be  here  in  good  time  this  evening,  and  will  bring  some 
Green  Chartreuse  with  me.  And  you  must  provide 
some  of  your  golden  Tokay.  Don't  be  mean  about  it, 
Tamar  —  two  bottles  at  least.  A  fine  idea  to  have  a 
party.  It  will  cheer  us  up  and  do  all  these  people  good 
to  meet  Gertrude  Linton  and  hear  a  few  things  from 
her.  Good  for  them  to  talk  with  the  Belgian  woman, 
and  see  a  glimpse  of  the  suffering  and  wrongs  going  on 
wherever  the  Germans  have  their  grip.  We  don't 
know  half  enough  here.  That  is  why  we  are  so  placid. 
Don't  be  anxious  about  your  party.  It  will  be  a  great 
success." 

And  it  was.  Mrs.  Thornton,  having  adored  the  Bel- 
gian baby  and  wept  over  it  to  her  heart's  content,  set- 
tled down  comfortably  in  the  inner  room,  and  brought 
out  her  knitting,  without  which  she  was  never  seen. 
She  was  amused  and  perhaps  a  little  concerned  to  see 
how  her  family  and  their  friends  made  themselves  at 
home  in  Tamar's  shop,  and  how  Tom  and  Marion  dashed 
around  and  brought  her  various  things  to  admire,  as 
though  they  had  a  proprietary  right  in  them.  But 
Tamar  did  not  seem  to  think  that  any  one  was  taking 
liberties,  and  it  was  evident  that  she  was  very  happy 
amongst  her  guests.  At  their  request  she  opened  her 
safe  and  showed  them  some  of  her  treasures  and  laid 
herself  out  to  give  them  pleasure.  Tom,  who  was  in 
fine  form,  translated  into  primitive  French  some  of  her 
remarks  and  explanations.  Madame  Guerin,  caught 
by  his  fun  and  gaiety,  laughed  and  said: 

"  Tres  bien,  Monsieur,  tres  bien.     Je  comprends." 


266      WHERE  YOUR  HEART  IS 

It  was  decided  that  she  must  indeed  be  a  genius  to 
understand  a  single  word  that  he  uttered.  He  also  took 
it  upon  himself  to  hold  forth  on  one  or  two  jewels,  much 
to  Tamar's  amusement. 

"  This,  ladies  and  gentlemen,  is  a  valuable  ruby  from 
Golconda  or  Gomorrah,  I  forget  which.  After  various 
vicissitudes  incidental  to  precious  stones,  which,  as  you 
know,  pass  through  many  hardships  in  the  process  of 
their  formation  and  many  adventures  in  their  course 
of  existence,  it  came  into  the  possession  of  Charles  the 
First,  and  a  day  or  two  after  his  decapitation  was 
bought  by  Miss  Scott,  of  Dean  Street,  Soho,  for  the 
trifling  sum  of  three  thousand  pounds.  Date's  a  little 
wrong,  but  no  matter.  Time  is  nothing.  Please  note 
its  wonderful  lustre.  I  tell  you,  ladies  and  gentlemen, 
there's  nothing  I  don't  know  about  precious  stones,  from 
a  pebble  to  a  pearl.  Blindfolded,  I  can  tell  the  differ- 
ence between  a  fragment  of  a  broken  soda-water  bottle 
and  an  emerald  of  the  finest  water.  You  cannot  there- 
fore dispute  my  right  to  be  considered  as  an  expert 
of  the  first  rank  —  far  superior  to  my  brother  Rupert, 
who  has  merely  acquired  his  well-known  reputation  by 
swotting  up  books  of  reference  —  and  notably  a  stu- 
pendous work  on  the  subject  by  my  honoured  friend, 
Miss  Scott  of  Dean  Street." 

Tamar's  brain  fairly  reeled  with  the  information  he 
gave  her  about  aerodrome  life,  machines  and  flying. 
He  explained  nose  dives,  sideslips,  falling  leaf,  looping 
the  loop  and  many  other  "  stunts,"  at  a  rate  calculated 
to  annihilate  all  powers  of  lay  understanding.  At  the 
same  speed  he  commented  on  all  the  different  charac- 
teristics of  all  the  aeroplanes  up  to  date,  German  and 
French,  as  well  as  British.  When  he  had  done,  it  was 


WHERE  YOUR  HEART  IS      267 

more  than  doubtful  whether  she  would  have  known  a 
captive  balloon  from  a  twin-engined  Gotha  biplane,  a 
Zeppelin  from  a  single-seated  scout. 

Gertrude  Linton  arrived  a  little  late.  Bramfield 
went  to  open  the  door  for  her,  and  when  she  heard  there 
was  a  party  on,  she  sat  down  in  the  shop  and  had  a  talk 
with  him  about  Bruce.  She  told  him  that  she  had  heard 
there  was  a  chance  of  the  German  Government  allowing 
an  American  Mission  of  medical  men  to  visit  some  of 
the  prisoners'  camps,  and  report  on  them.  How  would 
it  be  if  he  came  to  Holland  at  once  and  saw  his  friend 
the  American  military  attache  at  The  Hague?  If  the 
scheme  came  off,  he  might  be  able  to  get  Bruce's  camp 
included  in  the  inspection,  and  in  this  way  Bramfield 
might  perhaps  get  direct  news  of  his  boy's  condition. 
Bramfield  said  he  was  more  than  ready  to  go.  He 
would  have  rushed  off  at  once  if  he  had  not  known  that 
she  was  coming  to  London,  and  would  probably  have 
something  to  suggest  that  would  be  better  than  all  his 
vague  plans. 

"  Well,  you  have  not  lost  any  time,"  she  said.  "  We 
only  heard  a  day  or  two  ago  that  the  Germans  would 
be  likely  to  allow  anything  of  the  kind.  So  we  can 
go  together.  And  T.  Scott  must  come.  I  insist.  She 
must  see  the  concentration  camp  at  Uden,  whether  she 
likes  it  or  not.  You  must  insist,  Bramfield.  You  can, 
you  know !  " 

She  laughed  a  shy  little  laugh,  as  if  to  indicate  that 
she  knew  a  secret,  and  patted  him  on  the  hand. 

"  She'll  come,"  he  said,  smiling.  "  As  long  as  it  is 
not  to  a  public  meeting,  T.  Scott  will  come  anywhere, 
with  a  little  urging!  She  only  needs  a  little  urging. 
She's  not  accustomed  to  run  about,  as  you  and  I  do. 


268      WHERE  YOUR  HEART  IS 

We'll  all  go  together.     You  have  given  me  fresh  heart. 
I  knew  you  would." 

Gertrude  Linton  was  tired  and  looked  tired,  but  with 
coffee  and  cakes  and  Tokay  sne  revived,  and  was  at  her 
best,  so  bright  and  animated,  eager  and  enthusiastic. 
She  held  them  all  spellbound.  She  told  them  how  she 
helped  to  receive  the  exchanged  prisoners  at  the  fron- 
tier, told  them  how  they  looked,  what  they  said.  She 
told  them  thrilling  stories  about  spies  and  escaped  pris- 
oners. She  told  them  how  the  flying  men  interned  at 
a  fortress  in  Holland  dug  a  tunnel  and  were  found  in 
the  act,  and  how  the  Commandant,  very  angry  at  first, 
forgave  them  and  was  photographed  in  the  tunnel  in 
his  pyjamas,  smoking  a  cigar!  She  told  them  details 
of  what  was  going  on  in  Holland,  and  rumours  of  hap- 
penings in  Germany,  and  numerous  anecdotes  of  the 
smuggling  that  took  place,  and  incidents  at  the  frontier, 
both  comic  and  tragic.  She  described  her  visit  to  the 
Naval  Division  interned  at  Groningen  and  the  Belgian 
soldiers  interned  at  Zeist,  and  spoke  about  the  Belgian 
refugees  in  their  early  misery  and  the  present  new  con- 
centration camps  for  them  which  Miss  Scott  was  shortly 
going  to  visit.  Yes,  she  was. 

"  Go  on,  tell  us  something  more,"  they  kept  on  say- 
ing when  she  stopped. 

"  Something  more  about  the  Secret  Service,"  Wini- 
fred said. 

"  Something  more  about  the  smuggling,"  Tom  said. 

"  Something  more  about  the  prisoners,"  Rupert  said. 

"  Yes,  and  something  more  about  the  wounded  ones," 
Marion  said. 


WHERE  YOUR  HEART  IS      269 

"  And  about  the  homeless  refugees,"  said  Mrs.  Thorn- 
ton. "They  fill  me  with  pity." 

She  told  them  the  tragedy  of  Aerschot  —  a  story 
which  came  into  the  Press  later.  Madame  Guerin  had 
come  from  Aerschot  and  Gertrude  Linton  gave  them 
her  sad  history  in  her  very  presence,  knowing  of  course 
that  she  could  not  understand.  She  did  this  on  pur- 
pose, so  that  they  might  hear  a  tale  of  wrong  and 
cruelty  and  brutality,  with  a  living  instance  in  their 
midst  testifying  silently  to  her  words.  She  told  them 
other  instances  which  were  included  later  in  the  Bryce 
Report. 

She  roused  their  interest,  enlisted  their  sympathy, 
stimulated  their  patriotism.  She  cared  so  much  her- 
self, that  all  of  them,  listening  to  her,  were  moved  by 
the  feeling  that  in  their  own  separate  ways,  however 
humble,  they  must  do  their  bit  to  their  uttermost  limit 
to  save  their  own  country  from  the  fate  she  had  de- 
scribed —  a  fate  shared  by  the  occupied  parts  of  noble 
France  and  later  by  Serbia  and  wherever  the  Germans 
crushed  a  foe. 

It  was  Mrs.  Thornton  who  voiced  their  thoughts. 
When  she  rose  to  go,  she  turned  to  Gertrude  Linton, 
put  out  both  her  hands  and  said: 

"  You  have  made  me  understand  that  no  sacrifice  can 
be  too  great,  and  no  service  too  strenuous.  I  cared 
before,  but  now  I  care  a  thousand  times  more." 

Upstairs,  alone,  she  thanked  Tamar  for  having  given 
them  such  a  chance. 

"  We  don't  know  enough  in  England,"  she  said. 
"  We  are  too  comfortable,  too  safe,  too  much  intent  on 
our  own  personal  concerns.  God  forbid  that  such  a 


270      WHERE  YOUR  HEART  IS 

fate  should  overtake  us,  but  we  do  need  to  have  some 
truths  driven  into  us  to  awaken  us  to  our  best  fulfil- 
ment." 

She  drew  a  paper  from  her  knitting-bag.  It  was 
the  old  family  paper  which  Rupert  had  found. 

"  I  have  long  wanted,"  she  said,  "  to  show  you  some- 
thing I  value  greatly  —  something  which  Rupert  found 
in  his  father's  desk.  It  seemed  too  sacred  to  speak  of 
—  even  to  you  —  and  yet  I  have  all  along  wanted  you  to 
see  it,  because  it  explained  some  things  which  wounded 
me  and  over  which  you  comforted  me  when  I  most 
needed  comfort.  I  will  leave  it  with  you.  I  cannot 
speak  of  it  now.  It  seems  so  personal,  so  petty  and 
unimportant,  after  hearing  all  that  your  friend  has 
been  telling  us.  Old  woman  that  I  am,  I  feel  stirred 
to  do  or  bear  anything,  everything,  for  England's  sake." 

"  She  stirs  me,"  Tamar  said.  "  When  I  hear  her 
and  am  with  her,  her  disinterestedness  always  strikes 
me  afresh  and  impels  me  to  break  some  of  the  bonds 
which  bind  me  to  my  own  affairs.  And  against  my 
will." 

Mrs.  Thornton  put  the  paper  in  Tamar's  hands. 

"  Keep  it  in  your  safe,"  she  said.  "  It  has  a  right  to 
be  there,  for  when  you  read  it,  you  will  understand  that 
in  its  way  it  is  a  treasure.  I  would  rather  that  Rupert 
had  found  it  than  any  more  precious  stones  hidden  away 
anywhere." 

And  then,  as  if  she  had  dismissed  all  interest  in  per- 
sonal concerns,  she  clasped  her  hands  together,  and 
with  a  fervour  which  had  nothing  old  in  it,  exclaimed: 

"Oh,  that  I  were  young!  I  envy  that  woman  —  I 
envy  my  boys  —  Rupert,  for  what  he  has  passed 
through  —  Tom,  for  what  he  is  going  to  meet  —  my 


WHERE  YOUR  HEART  IS      271 

girls  —  Marion,  for  her  work  in  the  hospital  —  Wini- 
fred, for  hers  —  Dorothy,  at  the  Front.  I  envy  all 
young  people.  If  I  were  young,  nothing  could  hold  me 
back  —  nothing." 

That  night,  when  Madame  Guerin  and  her  babe  were 
sleeping  peacefully  upstairs,  and  Gertrude  Linton  was 
in  a  profound  and  well-deserved  slumber  on  the  Jacob- 
ean couch,  Tamar  opened  the  Thornton  family  docu- 
ment, and  read  the  compact  which  Richard  Thornton 
had  made  with  the  Almighty  on  December  31st,  1789, 
and  the  comment  added  by  the  man  who  had  striven 
against  his  secret  passion  for  precious  stones  —  and 
failed.  There  was  the  history  of  his  spiritual  combat 
in  a  few  bare  words  —  her  history.  He  had  failed  — 
and  died  in  failure. 

And  what  about  herself?  Was  she  also  going  to 
fail  and  die  in  failure? 

She  held  the  old  yellow  paper  for  a  long  time  in  her 
hands.  She  understood  what  it  meant  to  Mrs.  Thorn- 
ton. She  saw  how  this  message  from  the  dead,  more 
than  a  century  old,  with  its  pathetic  postscript,  a  year 
or  two  old,  explained,  condoned,  pleaded,  reconciled, 
healed. 

She  placed  it  on  the  upper  shelf  of  the  safe,  where 
her  most  cherished  possessions  lay  concealed. 

She  fell  asleep  at  last,  but  in  her  dreams  a  voice  was 
wafted  to  her,  chanting,  as  if  from  infinite  distance,  the 
words : 

"  Lay  not  up  for  yourselves  treasures  upon  earth, 
where  moth  and  rust  doth  corrupt  and  thieves  break 
through  and  steal." 

The  voice  was  Bramfield's. 


CHAPTER  V 

BRAMFIELD  and  Miss  Linton  got  their  way. 
Tamar  was  persuaded  to  let  him  leave  one  of  his 
men  in  charge  of  the  shop  in  Dean  Street,  and  rushed  off 
to  Holland  as  soon  as  he  could  make  arrangements 
about  her  passport  and  permit.  It  was  easy  enough 
for  him  to  come  and  go,  because  of  his  official  connec- 
tion with  the  American  Relief  Commission.  And  this 
time  Tamar  went  officially  to  help  Miss  Linton  in  the 
work  room  at  the  concentration  camp  at  Uden.  Later, 
it  became  impossible  to  get  over  so  easily;  but  in  these 
earlier  days  the  strictures  as  to  travelling  were  not 
severely  enforced,  though  our  Government  was  begin- 
ning to  take  measures  to  discourage  it,  and  the  service 
to  Holland  was  already  being  curtailed. 

Gertrude  Linton  had  not  been  able  to  wait  for  them, 
so  they  journeyed  alone,  as  before.  They  left  Tilbury 
on  a  Saturday  evening,  and  arrived  at  Flushing  on 
Sunday  evening  about  six.  They  had  an  uneventful 
journey,  though  Bramfield  pointed  out  to  Tamar  an 
Englishman  who  was  being  watched  by  Scotland  Yard 
on  suspicion  of  having  dealings  with  the  enemy.  Later 
he  was  trapped,  and  met  his  fate  one  dawn  outside  the 
Tower.  The  German  wife  of  another  Englishman  was 
also  being  shadowed.  As  a  British  subject,  she  was  free 
to  move  about,  and  as  a  German,  married  to  a  man  who 
had  lived  abroad  for  years  and  was  known  to  have 
pro-German  tendencies,  she  had  every  access  to  Ger- 
many* where  her  husband  was  interned  at  Ruhleben. 

272 


WHERE  YOUR  HEART  IS      273 

She  was  a  delightful-looking  woman,  with  the  platform 
manner  and  appearance  of  a  prima  donna  in  her  prime. 
Tamar  shuddered  to  think  of  the  fate  which  she  might 
be  preparing  for  herself. 

At  Flushing  they  were  met  by  Gertrude  Linton  and 
one  of  their  old  acquaintances,  the  Belgian  dclegue 
working  with  the  American  Relief  Commission,  and  were 
whipped  off  to  the  hotel  where  they  had  stayed  before. 

"  Flushing  is  more  than  ever  a  nest  of  spies,  T. 
Scott,"  Miss  Linton  said.  "  I  have  to  be  so  careful, 
that  I  scarcely  dare  snore  in  my  sleep  lest  I  should 
thereby  be  giving  away  State  secrets !  " 

Gretchen,  the  German  maid,  was  still  there,  but 
her  manner  was  decidedly  less  friendly,  though  she  still 
claimed  to  have  a  disinterested  sympathy  for  all  nations, 
and  said: 

"  Ach,  ach,  the  mad  people  all  at  each  other's  throat. 
Ach,  ach,  when  will  it  all  end,  so  that  we  can  be  happy 
and  peaceful  again." 

She  had  received  a  letter  that  morning  from  her 
Fritz,  interned  in  England,  and  she  told  Tamar  about 
it. 

"  He  speaks  well  of  the  treatment,"  she  said. 
"  Plenty  of  good  food  and  no  bullying.  Na,  na,  the 
English  are  kind.  Always  I  speak  of  them  as  I  found 
them." 

Tamar,  remembering  Miss  Linton's  words  of  caution, 
did  not  allow  herself  to  be  drawn  into  any  conversa- 
tion ;  and  as  it  was  second  nature  to  her  to  be  suspicious 
and  cautious,  it  was  easy  enough  to  be  on  her  guard, 
even  though  she  certainly  had  no  information  to  impart 
—  nothing,  she  reflected,  that  seemed  of  the  least  im- 
portance, except  indeed  the  address  of  the  Military 


274      WHERE  YOUR  HEART  IS 

Hospital.  But  Gertrude  Linton  had  told  her  that 
every  little  detail  was  snatched  up  and  devoured,  and 
that  she  would  probably  be  questioned  about  her  jour- 
ney in  a  way,  the  artfulness  of  which  she  might  not 
realize. 

Silence  and  sulkiness  were  therefore  the  best  attri- 
butes to  possess  on  a  visit  to  a  neutral  country;  and 
these  Tamar  had  at  her  command  in  their  perfected 
condition. 

The  next  morning  Miss  Linton  whirled  her  off  to 
the  Belgian  refugee  concentration  camp  (Vluchtoord) 
at  Uden,  leaving  Bramfield  to  make  his  way  to  The 
Hague  to  see  his  friend,  the  American  military  attache, 
and  find  out  whether  the  proposed  American  Medical 
Mission  to  Germany  was  really  to  be  allowed  to  inspect 
the  prison  camps,  and  whether  Doberitz  was  to  be  in- 
cluded in  the  list. 

A  car  was  waiting  for  them  when  they  had  arrived 
at  the  nearest  station,  and  after  a  drive  of  four  or 
five  miles  they  arrived  at  Uden,  where  Tamar  was  going 
to  stay  at  the  headquarters  of  the  Society  of  Friends, 
who  had  been  invited  by  the  Dutch  to  help  in  organizing 
industries  and  employments  for  men  and  women  in  the 
camp,  and  to  superintend  the  erection  of  maisons  de- 
montables  for  the  refugees  with  money  provided  by  the 
Friends'  War  Victims'  Relief  Committee,  and  by  a  gen- 
erous gift  from  Denmark. 

The  camp  was  situated  in  fine  open  country,  on 
heather-covered  moors  stretching  away  nearly  as  far 
as  one  could  see.  The  Friends'  hut  and  the  maisons 
demontables  were  outside  the  main  camp  itself,  which 
was  directly  opposite.  To  this  suburb  Miss  Linton 
and  Tamar  drove  up.  They  waited  to  see  a  Dutch 


WHERE  YOUR  HEART  IS  275 

marriage  procession  pass  along  the  road,  the  bride  in 
the  white  head-dress  of  the  district,  surmounted  by  a 
modern  hat,  the  unmarried  girls  wearing,  as  usual, 
their  black  head-dresses  crowned  in  many  instances  by 
modern  millinery  —  a  strange  mixture  of  tradition  and 
fashion  by  no  means  beautiful.  Then  they  passed  on 
to  their  hut,  where  they  were  received  by  three 
or  four  of  the  Friends'  workers,  and  by  some  of  the 
Belgian  refugees  already  established  in  their  own 
little  homes.  The  children  ran  up  and  surrounded 
Gertrude  Linton  at  once.  It  was  easy  to  see  that  they 
loved  her. 

The  hut  consisted  of  a  sitting-room,  a  kitchen  and 
two  bedrooms,  with  beds  which  formed  part  of  the  struc- 
ture. It  was  built  in  such  a  way  that,  like  all  the 
other  maisons  demontables,  it  could  be  taken  to  pieces 
and  set  up  later  in  Belgium  when  happier  times  dawned 
for  the  Belgian  people. 

A  fragrant  cup  of  coffee  in  the  little  sitting-room, 
and  then  Tamar  was  taken  out  to  see  the  sights.  They 
visited  first  of  all  some  of  the  huts  of  which  there  were 
already  about  sixty.  Their  first  visit  was  to  an  old 
woman  of  nearly  eighty,  who  had  three  grandchildren 
with  her.  She  was  proud  of  her  cottage  and  grateful 
for  it.  It  was  wonderful,  she  said,  to  have  a  home  of 
her  own  again,  a  separate,  private,  personal  little  home. 
And  there  she  would  be  able  to  rest  and  wait  in  patience 
and  serenity  for  the  day  which  might,  perhaps,  never 
dawn  for  her  —  the  day  of  return  to  her  beloved  Ter- 
monde.  But  there  was  at  least  the  hope  in  her  heart 
and  meantime  the  unspeakable  blessing  of  a  real  haven 
all  to  herself,  instead  of  a  bare  shelter  shared  with 
hundreds.  Tamar,  who  had  seen  the  misery  of  the 


276      WHERE  YOUR  HEART  IS 

early  days  of  flight  and  exile,  the  crowded  sheds,  the 
packed  barracks,  the  barges  filled  to  overflowing,  real- 
ized as  only  one  who  had  witnessed  those  heartrending 
scenes  could  realize,  the  meaning  and  depth  of  the  old 
woman's  thankfulness. 

Very  calm  and  beautiful  she  looked  in  the  dignity  of 
her  sweet  patience.  She  waved  to  them  as  they  left, 
and  pointed  to  the  little  ones  playing  with  the  sand  out- 
side and  planting  dead  bits  of  heather  to  make  a  garden 
like  that  of  the  English  ladies.  That  was  their  ambi- 
tion. At  the  moment,  it  seemed  to  have  but  small 
chance  of  fulfilment,  but  Grand'mere  was  quite  content 
and  said,  smiling: 

"  Are  they  not  making  a  beautiful  garden,  my  clever 
little  ones?" 

She  called  them  back  to  show  them  the  curtains  which 
she  had  lately  received  from  the  Society  of  Friends, 
and  which  completed  the  exclusiveness  of  her  private 
establishment. 

Then  they  called  at  some  of  the  other  houses,  and 
heard  the  same  story  of  thankfulness;  though  not  all 
the  refugees  had  the  same  charm  of  manner  and  sweet- 
ness of  spirit  as  Grand'mere.  Tamar  thought  the 
women  were  cheerier  and  more  contented  than  the  men. 
The  men  looked  sullen  and  listless  on  the  whole,  but 
the  carpenters  who  were  putting  up  the  houses,  were  in 
better  form  and  exhilarated  by  having  definite  occupa- 
tion. They  had  a  direct  interest  in  their  job,  for 
rightly  enough,  it  had  been  arranged  that  those  who 
gave  their  work  in  this  way,  should  have  the  prior 
claim  to  inhabit  the  houses.  Tamar  and  Miss  Linton 
watched  them  for  a  time,  and  some  of  the  men  from 
the  main  camp  had  also  strolled  over  to  watch.  It  was 


WHERE  YOUR  HEART  IS      277 

pathetic  to  see  these  able-bodied,  idle  fellows,  idle 
through  no  fault  of  their  own,  crowding  round  a  scene 
where  at  least  some  measure  of  activity  was  taking 
place  —  something  with  stir  and  life  in  it  to  break  the 
dead  monotony  of  no  events.  No  wonder  that  the 
Dutch  authorities,  strained  to  the  utmost  in  their  efforts 
for  the  care  and  housing  of  thousands  of  uninvited 
guests,  welcomed  the  help  of  outsiders  to  collaborate 
with  them  in  dealing  with  the  tragedy  of  idleness  and 
the  demoralization  of  character  which  inevitably  accom- 
panies it.  Tamar,  even  in  the  first  few  hours  after  her 
arrival,  began  to  feel  that  the  Friends'  relief  work  was 
something  noble  and  far-reaching,  like  all  constructive 
work.  They  had  stepped  into  the  very  heart  of  a 
tragedy  of  destruction,  and  were  quietly  building  up, 
building  up,  building  up  —  and  with  no  blast  of  trum- 
pets. She  learnt  that  they  were  doing  the  same  in  the 
devastated  parts  of  France ;  and  later  she  was  to  learn 
that  wherever  the  tragedy  of  destruction  spread  its  ter- 
rible net,  the  Friends  were  there  to  help  the  victims  of 
the  war,  and  to  show  their  deep-seated  faith  in  the 
power  of  love  to  alleviate  and  heal,  and  uplift.  The 
building  of  the  hut,  the  employment  of  the  men,  the 
housing  of  the  refugee  family  was  but  a  symbol.  The 
meaning  touched  her  to  the  quick.  Before  she  had  left 
the  scene  she  had  decided  that  she  must  add  a  cottage 
to  the  number.  She  announced  this  news  to  Gertrude 
Linton. 

"  Make  it  two,"  her  friend  said.  "  Make  it  two 
whilst  you're  about  it.  Plenty  of  precious  stones  in 
that  safe,  you  know,  waiting  to  be  turned  into  ready 
money.  I  promise  not  to  tell  Bramfield  if  you  make 
it  two!" 


278      WHERE  YOUR  HEART  IS 

They  did  not  visit  the  main  camp  that  afternoon. 
Miss  Linton  wanted  Tamar  to  see  it  first  on  a  week  day, 
when  the  workrooms  were  open  and  the  life  was  in  full 
swing.  But  numbers  of  children  came  to  the  Friends' 
quarters  for  games  in  which  the  workers  joined.  The 
children  were  extraordinarily  silent.  No  merry  voices 
rent  the  air. 

"  I  shall  not  be  content,"  Gertrude  Linton  said,  "  un- 
til they  are  really  happy  as  children  ought  to  be.  But 
they  are  happier  than  they  were.  You  should  have 
seen  their  sad,  puzzled,  bewildered  faces  at  the  begin- 
ning. Then  you'd  know  the  difference." 

Certainly  she  and  her  comrades  put  in  a  good  deal 
of  work  that  afternoon  to  produce  the  results  she  de- 
sired. She  was  untiring  in  her  efforts  to  rouse  and 
interest  them,  and  played  games  with  them  with  the 
same  dash  and  vivacity  characteristic  of  her  on  all  her 
more  serious  undertakings.  Tamar  again  admired  and 
envied  her  easy  ways  with  these  little  refugees  and 
the  confidence  she  inspired.  She  had  a  smile  and  a  pat 
onithe  head  for  each  of  them,  and  a  flow  of  patois 
mysterious  and  mixed  but  evidently  understandable, 
and  an  extraordinary  memory  for  their  names  and 
histories  and  the  towns  or  villages  they  came  from. 
Six  little  orphan  brothers  and  sisters  from  Antwerp 
were  her  special  care  and  thought.  They  were  always 
near  her,  the  tiniest  in  her  arms  sometimes,  with  a  doll 
dangling  head  foremost.  The  proceedings  terminated 
with  the  gramophone,  the  children's  greatest  joy. 
They  crowded  up  to  the  open  windows  of  the  Friends' 
hut,  as  close  as  they  could  get.  If  they  had  dared,  they 
would  have  scrambled  in.  Tamar  from  within  looked 
upon  a  sea  of  heads  and  eager  faces.  They  were 


WHERE  YOUR  HEART  IS      279 

packed  like  sardines,  and  did  not  stir  an  inch.  It  was 
evident  that  the  gramophone  could  not  tire  them  out, 
and  that  it  had  the  same  comforting  fascination 
for  them  as  for  our  wounded  soldiers  in  a  hospital 
ward. 

The  next  morning  Tamar  and  Miss  Linton  were  start- 
ing off  to  call  on  the  Commandant,  who  was  himself 
going  to  show  them  the  camp,  when  the  vegetable  cart 
drawn  by  a  big,  proud  dog  arrived  before  the  Friends' 
house,  and  a  good  deal  of  lively  bargaining  of  a  friendly 
nature  took  place  between  the  owner  and  the  Friends, 
surrounded  by  the  refugee  residents  from  the  cottages, 
who  also  wanted  to  bargain  and  buy.  When  this  ex- 
citing function  was  over,  Tamar  and  Miss  Linton  hur- 
ried off  to  the  Commandant's  office.  He  was  waiting 
for  them,  and  they  at  once  began  a  tour  of  inspection. 

About  six  thousand  refugees  were  then  being  housed 
at  Uden,  in  long,  low  barracks,  divided  into  separate 
partitions  for  each  family.  They  dined  in  large  rooms 
capable  of  holding  about  a  thousand  each.  There  was 
a  hospital,  a  church,  and  a  school  and  a  town  hall,  the 
abode  of  the  Burgomaster.  Long  stretches  of  these 
barrack  buildings  on  a  waste  of  sandy  soil  gave  rather 
an  impression  of  dreary  desolation ;  but  Tamar,  remem- 
bering the  sights  she  had  seen  in  the  early  days,  could 
only  marvel  at  the  ordered  care  and  detailed  concern 
evolved  by  the  generous  Dutch  out  of  an  apparently 
hopeless  chaos  of  difficulties.  Here  at  least  the  refu- 
gees had  a  chance  of  living  decent,  respectable  lives,  and 
were  housed,  fed  and  kept  in  circumstances  approaching 
as  nearly  as  possible  to  normal  conditions.  And  best 
of  all,  the  children  were  being  cared  for  in  a  very  special 
way  which  did  honour  to  the  Dutch.  They  had  borne 


280      WHERE  YOUR  HEART  IS 

it  in  mind  that  the  true  hope  of  any  country  lies  in  its 
children;  and  so  in  Uden  they  were  safeguarded,  well 
looked  after  and  well  taught. 

The  Commandant  seemed  as  anxious  about  their  wel- 
fare as  that  other  Commandant  at  Rosendaal,  who  had 
almost  wept  because  there  were  no  dolls  for  the  chil- 
dren. He  took  Tamar  to  the  hospital  and  showed  her 
with  pride  the  babies  lying  in  their  cribs  outside,  under 
the  pine  trees.  He  evidently  loved  the  little  ones,  and 
was  bent  on  helping  to  make  them  grow  up  strong. 

"  And  you  see,"  he  said,  "  the  situation  is  a  healthy 
one  for  them,  isn't  it?  One  of  the  healthiest  spots  in 
Holland." 

He  spoke  admirable  English  and  liked  to  be  con- 
gratulated on  his  fluency.  He  liked  also  to  air  it,  and 
left  Tamar  and  Miss  Linton  reluctantly  to  go  off  and 
see  some  big-wig  member  of  the  Government  who  had 
arrived  unexpectedly. 

"  But  I  could  not  leave  you  in  better  hands,"  he  said 
to  Tamar.  "  Miss  Linton  knows  all  about  us.  And  be 
sure  that  she  shows  you  the  schools.  And  ask  the  Sister 
to  make  the  little  ones  sing  to  you." 

To  the  school  house  they  went,  and  made  the  ac- 
quaintance of  the  schoolmaster,  who  showed  them  the 
boys'  class-rooms  in  a  dour  kind  of  way,  and  did  not 
seem  disposed  to  answer  questions  or  impart  interest- 
ing information  about  his  refugee  pupils.  So  they 
were  glad  to  be  handed  over  to  the  gentle  and  friendly 
Flemish  Sister  in  charge  of  the  girls. 

She  welcomed  them  with  open  arms  and  was  delighted 
to  talk  with  them  about  the  children,  and  knew  their  his- 
tories and  their  circumstances  by  heart.  Yes,  this  little 
one  from  Liege  had  lost  her  sisters  and  brother,  and 


WHERE  YOUR  HEART  IS      281 

her  father  was  at  the  Front,  and  her  grandmother  had 
died  during  the  flight  to  the  frontier.  And  this  little 
fair-haired  one  from  Antwerp,  so  quiet  and  sensible, 
too  quiet  and  sensible  for  her  tender  years,  had  piloted 
her  sick  mother  and  her  wee  brothers  and  sisters  to 
safety,  and  assumed  responsibility  for  their  welfare,  as 
if  she  were  head  of  the  family.  And,  as  Mademoiselle 
Linton  well  knew,  she  was  proud  beyond  words  of  the 
house  assigned  her  so  kindly  by  the  Friends  who  thought 
she  deserved  a  separate  home  for  her  brood.  No  one 
grudged  it  to  her.  The  workmen  who  put  it  together 
rejoiced  to  think  that  la  petite  Jeanne  and  her  family 
were  going  to  inhabit  it.  Would  the  other  English 
lady  like  to  speak  to  Jeanne?  Yes,  Tamar  said  she 
would. 

But  when  she  tried  to  say  a  few  words  to  the  brave 
little  one,  she  found  she  could  not  speak.  Something 
clutched  her  at  the  throat.  Something  dimmed  her 
eyes.  It  was  Gertrude  Linton  who  was  able  to  make 
appropriate  matter-of-fact  inquiries  after  Jeanne's 
household,  in  a  voice  which  did  not  falter  and  in  that 
celebrated  mixture  of  patois  and  Lintonese  which  as 
usual  did  not  fail.  Tamar,  who  could  have  almost 
counted  on  one  hand  the  times  when  she  had  shed  tears, 
nearly  wept  as  she  thought  of  that  child's  endurance 
and  quiet  heroism. 

They  visited  several  of  the  class-rooms,  heard  some 
of  the  lessons,  exchanged  smiles  with  the  Sisters,  who 
were  pleased  and  gratified  with  their  interest  in  the 
children,  and  came  finally  to  a  class-room  where  the  nun 
who  was  conducting  them,  bade  them  wait  for  a  moment 
or  two  whilst  the  children  sang  to  them.  She  charged 
them  to  sing  their  best  for  the  English  ladies  who  were 


282      WHERE  YOUR  HEART  IS 

their  friends,  their  own  friends  and  the  friends  of  their 
beloved  country.  They  stood  up,  and  at  a  sign  from 
her  their  young  voices  rose.  They  sang  "  De  Leeuw 
van  Vlanandren"  their  national  song,  and  one  or  two 
of  the  verses  of  Rubens's  Cantade. 

It  was  unspeakably  touching  to  see  and  hear  all  these 
homeless  little  exiles  singing  their  home  songs  in  a 
strange  land.  They  of  course  knew  nothing  of  the 
pathos  of  the  scene,  nothing  of  the  appeal  they  made 
to  their  listeners.  Very  surprised  and  wondering  would 
they  have  been,  if  they  had  been  told  that  the  memory 
of  their  little  figures,  their  eager  faces,  and  the  songs 
they  sang,  would  be  an  abiding  recollection,  sad  —  yet 
consoling.  For  there  was  consolation  in  the  thought 
that  they  were  safe,  and  that  everything  was  being  done 
for  them  that  could  be  done  by  the  generous  neighbour- 
ing nation  which  had  given  them  sanctuary.  The  nun 
knew  some  of  the  emotions  stirred  up  in  the  hearts  of 
the  Englishwomen.  She  whispered: 

"  It  is  a  joy  to  hear  them  and  a  sadness  too  —  my 
poor  little  homeless  ones." 

"  You  make  their  school  life  almost  like  their  native 
country  for  them,"  Gertrude  Linton  said  kindly.  "  No- 
where else  in  the  camp  does  it  feel  so  homelike  and 
happy  as  here  with  the  Flemish  Sisters.  Such  a  beau- 
tiful work  to  do  for  them." 

The  Sister's  face  lit  up  with  a  smile  of  almost  divine 
tenderness  and  protection. 

"  Ah,  Madame,"  she  said,  "  to  know  them  safe  here 
after  all  they  have  passed  through,  after  all  we  hear 
of  the  terrible  fate  of  those  in  the  power  of  the  enemy. 
What  would  one  not  do  and  be  for  them?  " 

As  they  passed  into  the  corridor,  she  pointed  to  the 


WHERE  YOUR  HEART  IS      283 

long  row  of  clogs  outside  the  class-rooms,  and  seemed 
delighted  when  Miss  Linton  snapshotted  the  quaint  pic- 
ture. But  a  still  greater  delight  awaited  her:  for  the 
schoolmaster  came  to  tell  her  that  a  photographer  had 
arrived  to  make  a  few  pictures  of  the  camp  for  illus- 
trations in  one  of  the  Dutch  newspapers,  and  that  the 
Commandant  wished  him  to  begin  with  the  school  chil- 
dren. 

In  a  moment  all  was  bustle  and  excitement.  All  the 
boys  and  girls  were  sent  into  the  school  yard  and  herded 
together  against  the  school  house,  the  only  grown-up 
people  being  the  Reverend  Mother  and  the  Sisters,  who 
intermingled  with  them  and  added  to  the  picturesque- 
ness  of  the  scene.  They  placed  the  smallest  ones  in 
front,  so  that  not  a  single  head  might  be  missing.  Miss 
Linton  and  Tamar  helped  to  arrange  them,  and  the 
Commandant  himself  strolled  up  and  looked  through  the 
camera  once  or  twice,  to  make  sure  that  all  was  well. 
He  stopped  the  proceedings  to  add  to  the  group  an  atom 
of  a  boy  in  a  striped  blouse,  who  was  sucking  his  thumb 
just  outside  the  range.  Then  he  looked  again,  nodded 
approval ;  and  there  was  a  flash  and  a  bang  —  and  the 
deed  was  done. 

"  It  will  be  a  lovely  and  a  clever  picture,"  he  said. 
"  And  what  shall  we  call  it?  " 

"  The  Dutch  caring  for  the  strangers  within  their 
gates,"  Tamar  said  instantly. 

"  Thank  you,  Mademoiselle,"  he  said,  turning  away. 

Afterwards  Miss  Linton  and  Tamar  strolled  through 
the  camp  by  themselves  and  chatted  with  various  of- 
ficials, including  the  tall  and  imposing  Dutch  police- 
man, who,  like  the  Commandant,  was  delighted  to  air  his 


28*  WHERE  YOUR  HEART  IS 

English,  though  in  his  case  his  eloquence  was  limited 
to  two  or  three  phrases  such  as :  "  All  right,"  "  Good 
morning !  "  Tamar  noticed  numbers  of  young  men  loll- 
ing about  doing  nothing,  or  else  playing  cards,  in  the 
barrack  compartments.  At  that  time  conscription  in 
the  Belgian  Army  had  not  come  into  force;  and  there 
were  apparently  hundreds  of  Belgians  even  in  that 
one  camp,  who  had  no  desire  or  ambition  to  fight  for 
their  country.  It  was  a  piteous  spectacle  to  see  them 
thus  bored,  listless,  probably  stunned  by  what  they 
had  passed  through,  and  with  no  energy  to  find  occupa- 
tion for  themselves. 

There  were  workshops  of  various  kinds  for  tailors, 
shoemakers,  basket  makers,  brush  makers,  smiths  and 
tinsmiths;  and  in  the  women's  workrooms  the  knitting 
industry  was  carried  on,  together  with  rug-making, 
raffia-work,  fine  needlework  and  mattress  making. 

It  was  to  the  Friends'  Workroom  or  Zaal  that  Ger- 
trude Linton  now  took  Tamar,  where  she  was  supposed 
to  justify  her  visit  to  Holland  by  rendering  aid  of  which 
she  was  entirely  incapable.  Rug-making  and  fine 
needle-work  did  not  form  part  of  Tamar's  equipment  in 
life;  but,  as  Miss  Linton  said,  she  could  at  least  criti- 
cize and  offer  a  few  vague  remarks  when  the  woman 
showed  her  what  they  were  doing. 

"  Look  very  wise  and  say  very  little,"  Miss  Linton 
enjoined,  "  and  they'll  all  think  you  are  an  expert  of 
experts.  They  will  love  to  talk  to  you,  and  you  must 
pretend  to  understand  all  they  say.  It's  very  simple. 
All  they  want  is  kindness  and  encouragement.  Remem- 
ber how  well  you  managed  with  Marie  Louise,  and 
Madam  Guerin  and  the  baby." 

It  was  an  interesting  scene  to  see  all  the  young,  mid- 


WHERE  YOUR  HEART  IS      285 

die-aged  and  even  old  women  happily  at  work,  either 
making  wool  rugs  or  else  engaged  on  needlework  of  some 
kind.  They  were  delighted  to  be  employed,  and  there 
was  an  atmosphere  of  content  and  happy  peacefulness 
in  the  room,  which  was  in  itself  a  tribute  to  the  Friends 
who  had  started  this  industry,  and  to  the  individual 
kindness  and  tactfulness  of  the  helpers.  It  is  certain 
that  a  spiritual  gratitude  reigned  in  that  busy  Zaal. 
The  girls  and  women  were  not  only  interested  in  their 
separate  tasks,  but  thankful  that  their  lives  had  been 
arranged  for  them  and  that  they  had  something  to 
do. 

And  the  Friends  had  established  good  discipline  with- 
out a  trace  of  mechanical  tyranny.  A  new  value  had 
been  put  on  the  meaning  of  work ;  a  new  outlook  had 
been  quietly  but  deliberately  insisted  on.  It  was  this: 
the  women  had  to  deserve  to  work ;  they  had  to  behave 
themselves ;  they  had  to  care  to  be  industrious ;  only  on 
those  conditions  could  they  be  allowed  the  privilege  of 
working.  Tamar  learnt  that  the  unruly  were  punished 
simply  by  banishment  from  the  Zaal,  and  that  two  or 
three  of  the  troublesome  spirits  who  had  been  shut  out 
in  the  cold,  came  and  looked  in  at  the  windows  longingly 
day  after  day,  until  they  were  again  admitted  —  when 
they  sinned  no  more. 

Tamar  passed  amongst  them  with  Miss  Linton,  ad- 
mired their  handiwork,  smiled  at  them,  and  was  received 
by  them  all  in  most  friendly  fashion.  There  were  three 
or  four  of  the  Friends'  helpers  superintending  the  work, 
pleasant,  sympathetic,  capable  young  women,  looking 
cheerful  and  attractive  in  pink  overalls.  A  delightful 
relationship  of  confidence  had  evidently  been  established 
between  them  and  the  refugees. 


286      WHERE  YOUR  HEART  IS 

Tamar  was  told  some  of  the  histories  of  the  refugees. 
One  young  woman  from  Aerschot,  with  a  sad  wistful 
face,  was  pointed  out  to  her,  whose  father,  three  broth- 
ers and  a  cousin  of  sixteen  years,  had  been  deliberately 
taken  out  and  shot  when  the  Germans  arrived  in  this 
peaceful  village.  Aerschot  was  one  of  the  places  which 
suffered  most  in  the  early  days  from  German  cruelty ; 
and  Julia  Gyseman's  tragedy,  like  that  of  Madame 
Guerin,  was  but  one  of  scores  occurring  in  that  village 
alone,  where  every  third  man  was  shot  at  once.  An- 
other woman,  Clementina  Peeters,  had  lost  her  baby, 
who  had  died  in  her  arms  during  the  terrible  days  of 
flight  towards  the  frontier.  A  pretty  young  girl  from 
Vise,  who  was  making  a  wool  rug  from  a  design  of  the 
Royal  Arms  of  Belgium,  was  entirely  alone  in  the  world. 
So  far,  all  attempts  to  trace  her  family  had  failed. 
Tamar  ordered  that  rug,  and  had  the  satisfaction  of 
seeing  her  face  light  up  with  a  smile.  She  was  working 
at  full  speed,  as  one  almost  possessed. 

"  Carolin  Bertels  scarcely  ever  speaks,"  Miss  Linton 
said.  "  She  only  works.  She  is  one  of  the  girls  to 
whom  this  place  has  been  a  godsend.  I  think  she  would 
have  gone  mad  without  it.  She  was  the  first  to  come 
to  us.  If  you  could  have  seen  her  then,  you  would 
not  know  her  now." 

Yet  even  Carolin  Bertels  joined  sometimes  in  the 
songs  which  rose  up  in  the  workroom.  She  joined  now 
when  some  of  the  gayer  spirits  at  the  farther  end  of  the 
room  started  a  well-known  tune. 

"  I've  never  before  heard  Carolin  sing  so  lustily," 
Miss  Linton  said.  "  That's  because  you've  ordered  one 
of  her  rugs.  Make  it  two,  T.  Scott!  Plenty  of  pre- 
cious stones  in  that  safe  waiting  to  be  turned  into  ready 


WHERE  YOUR  HEART  IS  287i 

money.  I  won't  tell  Bramfield  if  you  make  it  two — • 
or  three ! " 

Before  they  left  the  workroom,  they  visited  the 
special  corner  where  some  boys  who  had  begged  to  be 
admitted,  were  busy  making  hempen  shoes.  Tamar 
learnt  that  when  they  were  too  naughty,  the  magic 
doors  were  closed  to  them.  But  naughtiness  passed  by 
easy  stages  into  penitence,  and  from  penitence  into 
faithful  co-operation.  She  also  learnt  that  at  Uden  all 
wages  were  paid  not  in  money  but  in  "  points  " —  discs, 
some  of  which  were  banked  by  the  authorities  for  the 
future,  whilst  the  rest  could  be  exchanged  for  goods  in 
the  camp,  but  could  not  be  used  in  any  other  way. 

After  Tamar's  first  introduction  to  the  Friends'  Zaal, 
she  often  slipped  in  there  and  sat  amongst  the  women, 
and  nearly  always  near  those  who  had  been  pointed  out 
to  her  as  specially  sad  and  desolate.  They  looked  for 
her  coming.  They  thought  she  was  very  beautiful. 
Bramfield  would  have  been  pleased  to  hear  this  and  to 
know,  therefore,  that  she  was  at  her  best. 

He  came  in  a  day  or  twc.  He  had  seen  the  American 
Legation  at  The  Hague  and  had  learnt  the  good  news 
that  the  Germans  were  going  to  sanction  an  inspection 
of  their  prisoners'  camps  by  an  Official  American  Medi- 
cal Mission.  As  Doberitz  was  on  the  list  of  the  camps 
to  be  visited,  Bramfield  had  reason  to  hope  that  he 
might  receive  direct  tidings  of  Bruce.  He  knew 'that 
his  friends  would  leave  no  stone  unturned  to  relieve 
his  mind,  and  so  he  was  in  good  spirits  and  prepared 
to  enjoy  himself,  with  that  remarkable  quality  of 
resilience  which  was  part  of  his  temperament. 

He  would,  of  course,  have  liked  to  have  slipped  in  with 


288      WHERE  YOUR  HEART  IS 

that  Medical  Mission ;  but  this  would  have  been  impos- 
sible. But,  as  subsequent  events  proved,  the  idea  of 
getting  into  Germany  by  hook  or  crook  and  making  his 
way  to  Doberitz  was  born  in  his  mind.  He  was  by  na- 
ture reckless  and  daring,  and  impossibilities  never  de- 
terred him  from  his  aims.  He  had  been  educated  at 
Heidelberg,  and  he  knew  German  well,  and  had  always 
travelled  and  stayed  a  good  deal  in  the  country,  for 
business  and  pleasure.  He  was  quite  capable  of  making 
a  dash  into  Germany  on  his  own  account  and  trusting 
to  his  luck.  But  for  the  moment,  he  was  content  to 
wait  developments  and  hear  the  report  and  experiences 
of  the  Mission,  reflecting,  no  doubt,  that  the  informa- 
tion which  the  Americans  were  likely  to  bring  back, 
would  aid  him  in  carrying  out  his  secret  scheme,  which 
was  to  help  Bruce  to  escape. 

Tamar  was  delighted  to  see  him  and  ready  to  do  any- 
thing he  suggested.  He  and  Miss  Linton  whisked  her 
off  to  two  or  three  other  refugee  camps ;  and  they  went 
also  to  visit  the  English  airmen  who  were  interned  in  a 
fortress,  and  saw  the  Commandant  who  had  forgiven  the 
boys  for  digging  a  tunnel  of  escape,  and  had  been  pho- 
tographed in  it  in  his  pyjamas!  The  airmen  welcomed 
their  English  visitors  with  real  joy  fulness.  They  were 
bored  and  sick  at  their  bad  luck,  and  horribly  disgusted 
at  having  their  wings  clipped.  They  were  not  allowed, 
of  course,  to  send  letters  or  documents,  but  they  loaded 
Tamar  and  Bramfield  with  messages  to  their  people, 
which  they  were  to  deliver  the  moment  they  touched 
English  soil.  Sad  and  wistful  looked  the  young  fellows 
as  they  waved  their  last  good-byes.  Tamar  thought  of 
her  friend  Tom,  and  was  thankful  to  know  that  he  was 
at  large,  and  free  to  do  nose-diving,  looping-the-loop 


WHERE  YOUR  HEART  IS      289 

and  all  the  many  other  "  stunts  "  with  which  he  had 
bewildered  her  brain. 

It  was  when  they  drove  to  Nynwegen,  a  frontier  town 
about  fourteen  miles  from  Uden,  where  they  caught  a 
glimpse  of  the  Rhine  and  the  German  Landwehr  sol- 
diers, that  Tamar  got  a  first  inkling  of  the  thought  that 
was  in  Bramfield's  mind. 

"  Easy  enough,  I  should  say,  to  get  into  Germany," 
he  remarked  quietly. 

"  Yes,  but  not  so  easy  to  get  out,  I  should  imagine," 
she  said.  "Do  you  want  to  go  into  Germany?" 

He  made  no  answer. 

They  journeyed  to  another  frontier,  Gennep,  the 
scene  of  much  smuggling,  many  thrilling  escapes,  and 
many  terrible  tragedies ;  for  not  all  of  those  who  were 
making  a  dash  for  liberty,  were  able  to  avoid  the  snare 
of  the  barbed  and  electric  wire  with  which  the  Germans 
trapped  their  victims.  Gertrude  Linton  showed  them 
a  photograph  of  a  dead  man  caught  in  that  mesh,  which 
told  its  tragic  tale  only  too  vividly.  But  she  told  them 
that  there  had  been  many  successful  ventures  only 
lately,  and  that  numbers  of  Belgians  had  gained  the 
river  and  miraculously  missed  being  shot  whilst  swim- 
ming to  safety. 

"  If  they  had  luck,  other  people  could,"  Bramfield 
said,  half  to  himself. 

"What  do  you  mean  by  that,  Bramfield?"  Tamar 
asked  sharply. 

"  Nothing,  nothing,"  he  answered,  with  a  smile. 

**  Yes,  you  do  mean  something,"  she  said  almost 
fiercely.  "  You  want  to  go  into  Germany  to  get  to 
Bruce.  That's  what  you're  after." 

"  How  do  you  know  it?  "  he  asked. 


290      WHERE  YOUR  HEART  IS 

"  I  know  it  and  feel  it,"  she  said. 

"  Taraar,"  he  said,  "  I  cannot  tell  you  how  I  long  to 
break  down  all  barriers  and  get  at  that  boy.  Sense  or 
no  sense,  that's  how  I  am  feeling.  Do  you  under- 
stand?" 

For  answer  she  put  her  arm  through  his  and  made 
him  turn  his  back  on  Germany  and  look  towards  Hol- 
land, as  if  she  feared  he  would  be  tempted,  then  and 
there.  Her  anxious  concern  for  him  testified  to  her 
real  love  for  him,  and  comforted  him  not  a  little. 

"  Do  you  care  all  that  much?  "  he  said. 

"  Yes,"  she  answered,  "  you  know  I  do.  Promise  me 
not  to  do  anything  absurd,  Bramfield.  I  could  not 
bear  it." 

"  Do  you  care  all  that  much?  "  he  repeated. 

"  Yes,"  she  answered  again,  "  you  know  I  do.  But 
I  cannot  go  on  saying  it  an  indefinite  number  of  times. 
Now  promise  me." 

"  I  will  promise  to  try  and  not  do  anything  absurd," 
he  said.  "  That's  all  I  can  promise." 

And  she  had  to  be  content  with  that. 

They  heard  all  sorts  of  amusing  smuggling  stories, 
but  the  one  which  pleased  Tamar  most,  was  that  of  the 
German  baby  who  arrived  in  Holland  in  normal  condi- 
tion, and  returned  to  the  Fatherland  alarmingly  in- 
creased in  bulk  and  weight,  having  been  padded  with 
soap !  It  was  interesting  to  hear  of  cows  manoeuvred 
quietly  over  the  frontier  by  means  of  a  plentiful  ration 
of  salt  to  lick  and  enjoy  in  a  languishing  forgetfulness 
of  outer  circumstances.  She  heard  so  many  stories 
that,  with  all  her  experiences  crowding  one  upon  the 
other,  she  forgot  some  of  the  best.  Often  she  found 


WHERE  YOUR  HEART  IS      291 

herself  saying:  "  I  must  try  and  recall  every  single  de- 
tail in  order  to  tell  Seymour  and  the  others  in  Ward  Z." 
She  sent  Seymour  some  postcards  about  which  Bramfield 
pretended  to  be  jealous,  though  he  ended  by  buying  a 
number  himself  and  giving  them  to  her  with  the  words: 

"For  that  jewel  friend  of  yours  —  my  rival,  whom 
I  must  slay  when  he  has  recovered." 

But  he  was  proud  and  delighted  to  know  that  she 
was  visiting  a  hospital  and  taking  an  interest  in  the 
wounded.  Until  then,  she  had  not  told  him.  She  al- 
ways hid,  as  if  they  were  some  shameful  conspiracies, 
any  kindly  deeds  she  had  braced  herself  up  to  do. 

Charming  was  Bramfield's  relationship  with  Tamar  in 
these  days.  His  sunny,  unselfish  nature  made  every- 
thing easy  for  her,  in  an  intimacy  which  demanded  noth- 
ing she  could  not  give.  There  was  not  even  the  strain 
of  silence  between  them  on  the  subject  of  her  reluctance 
to  marry  him. 

"  The  great  thing  is  that  I  have  got  you,  my  Tamar," 
he  said.  "  You  can't  do  without  me,  and  I  can't  do 
without  you.  That  is  something  big  to  have  won  out 
of  life.  Who  knows,  if  we  married,  we  might  have  a 
deadly  quarrel  over  diamonds  which  you  don't  appre- 
ciate properly,  or  over  that  wretched  old  char  of 
yours,  who  divides  her  fidelity  between  you  and  the  gin 
bottle." 

"  Gin  or  no  gin,  she  has  been  faithful  to  me  for  fifteen 
years,"  Tamar  said  staunchly.  "  And  I  won't  have  any 
one  say  a  word  against  her." 

"  There  now,  you  see,"  he  said,  with  a  laugh,  "  we're 
beginning  already.  Heaven  help  us  if  we  ever  were 
to  get  married  !  " 

And  he  teased  her. 


292      WHERE  YOUR  HEART  IS 

"  Are  you  sure  you  wouldn't  like  to  run  up  to  Alk- 
maar  and  have  some  schaper-kaas  and  pekel-haring  with 
a  certain  Weduwe  Maas  at  Egmond  op  den  Hoef  ?  "  he 
asked  mischievously.  "  Are  you  sure  you  wouldn't  like 
to  buy  another  Dutch  ship  with  a  reconstructed  — " 

"  Bramfield,  don't !  "  she  pleaded.  "  I  can't  bear  to 
think  or  talk  of  that  episode." 

"  But  you  are  never  going  to  insult  me  again,  are 
you?  "  he  said,  with  a  twinkle  in  his  eye. 

"  I  hope  not,"  she  answered.  "  But  one  never 
knows." 

They  visited  Rotterdam  again  and  sought  the  offices 
of  the  American  Relief  Commission,  where  the  work  of 
sending  food  to  the  Belgians  in  Belgium  was  still  go- 
ing on  successfully.  The  Representative  and  his  wife 
had  returned  to  America,  and  all  the  personnel  had 
changed  with  the  exception  of  one  of  the  Belgian  clerks 
whose  brother  had  made  his  way  back  to  Ghent  to  find 
traces  of  his  mother  and  sisters  —  and  had  never  re- 
turned. The  vessels  were  still  arriving  safely,  laden 
with  grain  and  salt  and  rice  and  canned  milk;  for  in 
those  days  there  was  no  torpedoing  of  Relief  Ships. 
But  the  effort  of  keeping  up  the  supplies  month  after 
month,  was  becoming  a  serious  matter,  and  the  Ameri- 
cans were  beginning  to  find  relations  with  the  Germans 
more  and  more  difficult  as  the  German  grip  on  Belgium 
tightened. 

But  though  that  gracious  company  had  gone,  the 
memory  of  each  one  of  them  made  Rotterdam  a  meeting 
place  of  friendships  never  to  be  forgotten,  and  conjured 
up  emotions  destined  to  stand  the  wear  and  tear  of  time 
and  space. 


WHERE  YOUR  HEART  IS      293 

They  finished  up  at  Uden,  and  Tamar  spent  the  last 
two  or  three  days  in  the  Friends'  Zaal  amongst  the 
women  —  to  justify  her  journey,  so  Gertrude  Linton 
put  it. 

"  And  very  well  you've  managed,  T.  Scott,"  she 
said.  "  You've  looked  wise,  and  nodded  or  shaken  your 
head  to  perfection  when  the  girls  have  shown  you  their 
work.  That's  the  way  to  do  things.  Look  wise  and 
say  nothing,  and  the  world  will  take  you  for  a  prophet 
or  a  genius  or  an  expert.  All  the  workers  think  you 
are  an  awful  '  knut.'  It  is  a  good  thing  you  are  going. 
My  nose  would  soon  be  out  of  joint." 

The  morning  she  left,  the  whole  Zaal  followed  her 
to  the  door  and  circled  round  her,  telling  her  to  make 
haste  and  come  back  again  from  England.  Bramfield, 
who  witnessed  the  scene  with  the  same  pleasure  which 
he  always  showed  when  Tamar  was  appreciated,  said : 

"  Well,  one  thing  is  plain,  my  Tamar ;  you  have  not 
been  sulky  and  disagreeable  in  Uden." 

"  Those  forlorn  and  homeless  refugee  women  have 
moved  me  very  much,"  she  said,  as  if  in  excuse. 

At  Flushing  they  learnt  that  exchanged  civilian  pris- 
oners from  Germany  and  England  would  be  passing 
through  Holland  the  next  day.  Gertrude  Linton  was 
one  of  the  Reception  Committee  for  the  British,  and 
through  her  influence  Bramfield  and  Tamar  shared 
the  glad,  though  sad,  opportunity  of  welcoming  and 
taking  care  of  the  poor  fellows  from  Ruhleben,  who 
looked  more  than  half  starved,  were  scantily  clothed, 
and  seemed  broken  in  health  and  spirit.  One  or  two 
were  ,out  of  their  mind.  The  difference  between  their 
condition  and  that  of  the  Germans  from  England,  who 
arrived  well  clothed  and  well  fed,  was  enough  to  make 


294      WHERE  YOUR  HEART  IS 

all  British  beholders  weep  from  grief  —  and  rage. 
Gertrude  Linton  could  scarcely  control  Bramfield  from 
causing  a  scene.  She  appealed  to  Tamar. 

"  Do  make  your  wretched  Bramfield  behave,"  she 
whispered.  "  We  can't  afford  to  have  a  disturbance 
here.  It  would  never  do." 

"  Bramfield,  do  try  and  not  make  a  fool  of  yourself," 
Tamar  enjoined,  in  a  voice  which  was  none  too  certain. 

The  sight  of  the  contrast  maddened  him,  as  the  sight 
and  the  memory  of  it  maddened  others  for  many  a  long 
day.  Only  Tamar  could  have  calmed  him. 

She  herself  was  never  to  forget  that  scene.  Never 
was  she  to  forget  the  moment  when  she  handed  a  rose 
to  one  of  the  frailest  invalids,  and  his  face  lit  up  with  a 
smile  of  ecstasy. 

"  Roses,"  he  said,  "  the  loveliest  flower  of  the  love- 
liest land  in  the  world." 

Nor  was  Tamar  ever  to  banish  from  her  mind  the 
remembrance  of  that  quiet  English  lady  who  had  kept 
a  school  in  Brussels  and  had  been  seized  and  imprisoned 
under  suspicion  of  being  a  spy,  and  only  liberated  when 
even  the  utmost  hostility  could  not  sustain  the  flimsy 
case  against  her.  , 

"  Is  it  possible,"  she  said,  with  a  light  in  her  eyes, 
"  that  I  am  to  see  the  shores  of  England  again?  Can 
you  tell  me  that  I'm  not  dreaming?  " 

No,  they  were  not  dreaming,  those  poor  sufferers. 
Dawn  had  come  in  very  truth,  banishing  despair  and 
bringing  a  bright  fulfilment  of  dim  hopes. 

Tamar  parted  with  Gertrude  Linton  with  the  same 
regret  that  she  always  felt  when  she  had  to  say  good-bye 
to  this  exacting  friend. 

"  Oh,  I  shall  be  over  soon,"  Miss  Linton  said.     "  As 


WHERE  YOUR  HEART  IS      295 

before,  expect  me  at  any  time  with  any  number  of  people 
to  be  housed,  clothed  and  fed.  Now,  you  have  enjoyed 
yourself,  haven't  you?  Are  you  not  pleased  you  did 
not  persist  in  being  '  stuffy,'  and  remaining  at 
home?" 

"  I  have  not  minded  coming,"  Tamar  answered. 

"  Take  your  wretched  old  Bramfield  in  hand  and  make 
him  keep  calm  about  his  boy  and  everything  else,"  Ger- 
trude Linton  enjoined.  "There  is  nothing  to  be  done 
about  Bruce  for  the  present.  I'll  keep  in  close  touch 
with  the  Legation  and  let  him  know  all  the  news. 
Couldn't  you  possibly  manage  to  marry  him  soon? 
That  would  keep  him  quiet  for  a  while." 

Tamar  laughed  her  soft  little  laugh. 

She  had  some  difficulty  in  persuading  Bramfield  to 
leave  Holland.  Though  he  wanted  to  go  with  her, 
he  also  wanted  to  stay  behind,  in  order  to  be  on  the 
spot  to  receive  news  of  Bruce.  But  he  gave  in  and 
journeyed  home  with  her.  They  had  no  further  experi- 
ences except  the  arrival  of  a  spy  at  Tilbury  —  an 
Austrian  woman  this  time  —  and  a  narrow  escape  from 
a  floating  mine,  and  a  thrilling  bit  of  companionship 
with  four  Belgians  and  one  young  Englishman  who, 
after  innumerable  adventures,  including  five  weeks'  hid- 
ing in  a  monastery,  had  arrived  at  the  frontier,  and 
at  the  eleventh  hour  nearly  got  shot  in  swimming  across 
the  river. 

"  But  you  see  they  did  not  get  shot,  my  Tamar," 
Bramfield  said  stubbornly,  when  talking  with  her  over 
the  story. 

Tamar  was  worn  out  with  all  her  adventures  and  emo- 
tions, and  slept  uninterruptedly  for  many  hours. 


296      WHERE  YOUR  HEART  IS 

She  was  awakened  at  length  by  the  old  char,  who 
stood  over  her  saying: 

"  Times  is  changed,  times  is  changed  and  no  mistake. 
Never  did  I  see  the  like  this  fifteen  year  and  more.  A 
shop  full  of  customers  and  no  one  to  attend  to  them." 


CHAPTER  VI 

TAMAR  was  tremendously  stimulated  by  her  visit  to 
Holland,  but  rather  thankful  to  be  quietly  settled 
in  her  own  den  again  and  to  share  in  the  repose  which 
England  was  still  enjoying  at  that  time,  and  indeed  for 
many  long  months  afterwards,  before  the  home  people 
began  to  realize  that  a  war  was  really  going  on  in 
which  their  country  had  great  stakes.  As  Bramfield 
truly  said,  politicians  and  the  public  were  all  comfort- 
ably asleep,  and  the  only  persons  who  were  awake  were 
the  profiteers,  and  they  had  never  closed  their  eyes  from 
the  outset. 

She  sank  for  a  while  into  this  blissful  condition  of 
peacefulness,  and  had  a  spell  of  ecstasy  over  her  pre- 
cious stones  and  a  rather  severe  attack  of  graspingness 
and  commercial  sharpness,  as  if  to  make  up  for  three 
weeks'  neglect  of  all  business  interests.  Then  she  re- 
laxed and  became  more  human.  The  day  after  the 
pendulum  had  thus  swung  back,  an  exceedingly  hand- 
some young  woman,  obviously  of  the  so-called  upper 
class,  beautifully  dressed  and  in  faultless  taste,  pranced 
into  the  shop  and  produced  from  her  dainty  satchel  a 
small  round  box  from  which  she  took  what  appeared  to 
be  a  superb  emerald.  She  said  she  wished  to  sell  it. 

Tamar  gave  a  swift,  professional  glance  at  her  vis- 
itor, sized  her  up  as  being  a  person  who  was  in  some 
pressing  difficulty,  examined  the  stone  carefully,  and 
looked  at  the  little  round  box,  which  seemed  to  take 
her  fancy. 

297 


298      WHERE  YOUR  HEART  IS 

"  That  is  an  interesting  box,"  she  said.  "  What  is 
it  made  of?" 

"  Pith  of  the  lime  tree,"  the  young  woman  answered. 
"  There's  a  faint  smell  of  the  lime." 

Tamar  sniffed  at  it  and  nodded  her  head. 

"  I  should  like  to  have  it,"  she  said.  "  I  should  like 
to  buy  it  —  for  a  trifle." 

"  I  came  to  sell  the  emerald,  not  the  box,"  the  young 
woman  said  impatiently. 

Tamar  glared  at  her  and  then  said  with  an  irritating 
unconcern : 

"  Oh,  yes,  the  emerald.  I'd  forgotten  it.  How  much 
are  you  expecting  for  it?  " 

"  I  am  willing  to  take  £150  for  it,"  was  the  prompt 
answer. 

Tamar  laughed  softly. 

"  Do  you  know,"  she  said,  in  an  amused  tone  of  voice, 
"  I  don't  run  this  business  for  charity." 

"  The  emerald  is  worth  far  more  than  £150,"  the 
young  woman  said,  her  hand  trembling  from  annoyance 
and  impatience.  "  I  know  that  absolutely  for  certain. 
But  I  need  £150  at  once,  and  so  would  let  it  go  for  that 
sum." 

"  No  one  has  ever  been  here  to  sell  something  who 
did  not  need  a  certain  fixed  sum  urgently,"  Tamar  said 
quite  good-temperedly.  "  But  no  one  has  ever  got  it. 
And  why  not  ?  " 

"  Well,  I  suppose  because  you  beat  every  one  down," 
the  young  woman  answered,  with  a  shrug  of  her  shoul- 
ders. 

"  Partly  that,  of  course,"  Tamar  replied,  with  one 
of  her  grim  smiles.  "  But  also  because  in  nine  cases 
out  of  ten,  the  demands  of  the  people  desirous  of  selling 


WHERE  YOUR  HEART  IS      299 

are  based  on  an  ignorance  which  is  both  amazing  and 
amusing.  Now  and  again,  of  course,  they  undervalue 
their  property.  I've  known  some  remarkable  instances. 
But  I  shouldn't  be  able  to  add  you  to  them." 

"  I  know  for  certain  that  the  stone  is  a  valuable  one," 
the  young  woman  insisted  petulantly.  "  It  is  said  to 
be  a  particularly  beautiful  emerald." 

Tamar  turned  it  over,  examined  it  afresh  and  held  it 
up  to  the  light,  but  in  a  leisurely,  perfunctory  fashion, 
as  if  she  were  playing  with  it  rather  than  bestowing 
any  serious  consideration  on  its  merits  or  shortcom- 
ings. 

"  It  is  rather  a  beautiful  colour,  and  its  brilliancy 
is  not  at  all  bad,"  she  said  at  last.  "  But  unfortunately 
it  is  only  a  reconstructed  emerald.  Its  value  is  about 
sixteen  or  seventeen  pounds  at  the  most.  If  it  had 
been  a  natural  stone,  it  would  have  been  worth  round 
about  £350." 

"  A  reconstructed  emerald !  "  the  young  woman  ex- 
claimed angrily.  "  I  don't  believe  it." 

"  I  don't  ask  you  to  believe  it,"  Tamar  remarked 
dryly.  "  I  merely  make  the  bare  statement.  You  are 
at  liberty  to  believe  what  you  choose  and  take  your  re- 
constructed emerald  elsewhere.  I  certainly  have  no 
use  for  it." 

She  added,  whether  to  irritate,  or  else  because  she 
really  wished  for  the  little  box : 

"  I  wouldn't  mind  buying  the  little  lime  box  for  five 
shillings.  I  rather  like  it." 

"  It  is  not  for  sale,"  the  Hon.  Maude  St.  Clair  Ever- 
ard  said  haughtily. 

She  whipped  up  her  property  and  was  beating  a  re- 
treat when  Tamar  detained  her. 


300      WHERE  YOUR  HEART  IS 

"  If  you  will  come  into  the  inner  room,"  she  said, 
"  I'll  take  the  trouble  to  give  you  a  lesson  and  show 
you  the  difference  between  a  natural  and  a  recon- 
structed stone.  Then  you  won't  have  a  second  disap- 
pointment." 

'"  I  don't  want  a  lesson,"  Miss  Everard  retorted.  "  I 
want  to  sell  the  stone.  I  must  sell  it.  '  I  must  have  a 
hundred  and  fifty  pounds.  I  simply  must.  If  I 
don't  .  .  ." 

She  broke  off.  She  became  suddenly  confused.  She 
bit  her  lips  and  tried  to  control  her  feelings  and  main- 
tain her  dignity,  but  in  vain.  It  was  obvious  that  she 
was  bitterly  disappointed  and  disconcerted.  She  threw 
herself  on  the  chair  and  burst  into  tears. 

T.  Scott  watched  her  with  a  curious,  detached  inter- 
est. She  knew  the  type  well. 

"  A  pressing  bridge  debt,  I  suppose?  "  she  said  dryly. 

The  girl  —  she  was  only  a  girl  —  looked  up. 

"  How  do  you  know?  "  she  asked,  half  tearfully,  half 
angrily. 

"  Oh,  I  generally  know,"  Tamar  said  casually.  "  I 
know  when  people  come  to  make  a  sacrifice  for  some  one 
or  something  and  are  disappointed  with  what  I  offer 
them.  And  I  know,  too,  when  they  are  pressed  for 
money  or  have  lost  at  bridge.  Directly  I  saw  you,  I 
said :  '  Bridge.'  Well,  I  repeat  my  offer.  I  will  give 
you  five  shillings  for  the  little  lime  box,  and  a  lesson  in 
precious  stones.  Very  generous  of  me,  and  I  don't 
know  why  I  should  take  the  trouble  for  you,  unless  it  is 
that  you  are  young.  I  rather  like  young  people." 

"  I'm  so  awfully  disappointed,"  Miss  Everard  sobbed. 

"  Most  people  are,"  Tamar  said,  in  her  grimmest  way. 


WHERE  YOUR  HEART  IS      301 

"  I  am  —  always.     Once  I  was  myself  terribly  disap- 
pointed over  a  recon  .  .  ." 

She  broke  off  and  dispelled  the  unwelcome  vision  of 
Weduwe  Maas  and  a  Dutch  nef. 

She  pointed  with  a  quiet  imperiousness  to  the  inner 
room  and  led  the  way,  followed  unwillingly  by  her  vic- 
tim, who  apparently  had  no  power  to  resist  her  influ- 
ence. She  signed  to  her  to  be  seated  and  then  opened 
the  safe,  from  which,  after  a  somewhat  prolonged 
process  of  selection,  she  took  two  or  three  rings  and  a 
few  unset  sapphires,  emeralds  and  rubies,  some  of  them 
reconstructed,  others  natural  stones. 

"  Now,"  she  said,  "  here  is  a  real  emerald  —  a  beau- 
tiful specimen.  Contrast  it  with  your  priceless  posses- 
sion. I  suppose  you  see  no  difference.  No,  you  would 
not  be  likely  to.  But  I'll  explain  to  you  if  you'll  leave 
off  sobbing  in  that  absurd  fashion." 

She  explained  simply  and  concisely  the  difference 
between  reconstructed  and  natural  stones,  and  dwelt  a 
little  on  the  qualities  of  hardness,  colour,  brilliancy  and 
transparency,  which  she  exemplified  in  the  stones  she 
had  chosen  for  her  lesson.  And  having  brought  her 
technical  remarks  to  a  close,  one  would  have  thought 
that  she  would  have  ceased  talking,  and  dismissed  her 
visitor.  But  she  did  nothing  of  the  kind.  It  was  prob- 
able that  after  her  absence  in  Holland,  she  was  excited 
at  seeing  her  gems,  and  was  carried  away  by  renewed  en- 
thusiasm. Anyway,  she  continued  to  talk  on  the  sub- 
ject of  precious  stones,  and  became  increasingly  fervent 
until  she  reached  a  condition  of  entire  rapture  which  was 
reflected  on  her  face.  For,  in  spite  of  the  modifications 
which  her  character  was  undergoing,  she  would  never 


302      WHERE  YOUR  HEART  IS 

have  been  able  to  root  out  her  dominant  passion  from 
the  depths  of  her  nature.  So  now  she  lost  herself  in  a 
fairyland  of  delight.  She  poured  out  all  her  knowledge, 
all  her  love,  in  a  voice  thrilling  with  pride,  crooning 
with  tenderness,  whispering  with  mystery.  She  had 
forgotten  her  audience.  For  the  moment  the  outer 
world  had  ceased  to  exist  for  her.  Certainly  the  Hon. 
Maude. 

The  girl  listened,  amazed,  awed,  uneasy.  She  was 
not  particularly  intelligent,  and  had  only  been  mod- 
erately educated.  A  round  of  pleasures  was  her  only 
conception  of  life.  She  was  entirely  without  any  power 
of  continuous  interestedness  and  concentration.  But, 
for  the  life  of  her,  she  could  not  have  moved  from  the 
inner  room.  She  sat  where  Tamar  had  placed  her, 
holding  in  her  hand  the  despised  reconstructed  emerald 
on  which  she  had  set  such  a  fictitious  value,  and  with 
which  she  had  planned  to  discharge  a  pressing  bridge 
debt.  Against  her  will,  against  her  frivolous,  shallow 
nature,  she  was  arrested  by  Tamar's  fire  of  enthusiasm. 
To  her,  gems  had  only  meant  objects  of  adornment,  to 
be  worn  for  display,  or  capable  sometimes  of  conversion 
into  money  for  convenient  purposes.  She  had  never 
heard,  much  less  thought  of,  the  meaning  of  a  precious 
stone,  its  soul,  its  spirit,  its  mystery.  Later  she  would 
laugh  perhaps.  But  she  had  no  inclination  to  laugh 
now.  She  remained  subdued  and  patient,  waiting  with 
a  vague  resignation  for  the  order  of  release. 

It  came  at  last.  There  was  a  ring  at  the  bell. 
Maude  Everard's  minimum  of  attention  collapsed  in- 
stantly. Her  heart  leapt  within  her  at  the  joyful  pros- 
pect of  immediate  escape.  But  no.  Tamar  continued 
her  rhapsody  entirely  unconscious  of  any  disturbing 


WHERE  YOUR  HEART  IS      303 

summons.  There  was  another  ring,  and  this  time  May- 
fair  human  nature  could  stand  the  strain  no  longer. 
The  victim  took  courage  and  spoke. 

"  Don't  you  hear  some  one  at  the  door?  "  she  said. 
"  Some  one  has  been  ringing  before." 

Tamar  stared  at  her  vacantly,  and  then,  in  a  dreamy 
way,  as  one  only  half  roused  from  an  ecstatic  trance, 
vanished  like  a  spirit  into  the  shop,  leaving  the  safe 
open. 

The  girl  was  going  to  follow,  when  suddenly  the  devil 
entered  into  her  and  tempted  her.  Wasn't  this  an  op- 
portunity for  her?  Why  shouldn't  she  avail  herself  of 
it  ?  Wouldn't  she  be  a  fool  not  to  do  so  ?  How  would 
it  be  if  she  took  one  of  those  rings  which  the  woman  had 
put  at  the  back  of  the  upper  shelf  —  that  rich,  velvety 
emerald,  for  instance,  worth  several  hundred  pounds? 
Could  she?  Dared  she?  Yes,  why  not?  It  was  such 
a  chance.  It  would  never  come  again. 

She  glanced  round  to  make  sure  that  she  was  alone, 
and  then,  without  any  thought  of  consequences,  without 
a  moment's  hesitation,  bent  forward,  snatched  a  ring 
and  stuffed  it  in  her  coat  pocket. 

"  If  I  don't  move  from  here  until  she  returns,  she 
won't  suspect  anything,"  she  thought,  as  her  heart  beat 
wildly.  "  If  I  were  to  rush  off  now,  she  might  have  her 
doubts.  But  if  I  stay,  I'm  safe." 

And  she  kept  on  repeating  to  herself : 

"  If  I  stav,  I'm  safe.     But,  oh,  dear,  I  wish  I  could 

go." 

Suddenly  she  became  frightened  at  what  she  had  done, 
and  wanted  to  restore  the  ring  to  its  place;  and  if  she 
had  yielded  immediately  to  this  impulse,  she  could  have 
saved  the  situation.  But  again  the  devil  tempted  her. 


304      WHERE  YOUR  HEART  IS 

"  No,"  she  said,  "  I've  got  it.  I  shall  keep  it.  It 
will  be  all  right  if  I  remain  here.  It's  torture  remain- 
ing. But  if  I  stay,  I  am  safe." 

So  she  stayed  on.  She  leaned  back  in  the  chair,  con- 
tinued to  hold  her  reconstructed  emerald  in  her  hand, 
and  stared  intently  at  the  little  cupboard  near  the  fire- 
place, full  of  small  bits  of  valuable  china.  She  hoped, 
in  this  way,  to  give  the  impression  that  she  was  entirely 
unconscious  of  the  proximity  of  that  open  safe  with  its 
rich  hoard  of  rare  treasure.  Certainly  Sarah  Bern- 
hardt  could  not  have  acted  the  part  better.  Maude 
Everard,  for  all  her  trembling  heart,  looked  the  image 
of  detached  and  guileless  innocence.  No  human  being 
would  have  thought  that  she  had  stolen  a  rich,  velvety 
emerald,  a  "  perfection  "  stone,  and  that  it  was  repos- 
ing peacefully  in  her  coat  pocket. 

Certainly  Tamar  did  not,  when  she  returned  to  the 
inner  room.  She  returned,  entirely  transformed  both 
in  bearing  and  in  expression  of  countenance.  She  was 
no  longer  a  dreamy  enthusiast  caught  by  a  mystic  spell. 
She  was  absolutely  of  this  world  now,  material,  practi- 
cal, and  jubilant  over  an  excellent  bit  of  business  which 
she  had  carried  through  in  that  brief  interval.  She 
was  chuckling  a  little,  pleased  with  herself,  and  proud 
to  find  her  commercial  capabilities  by  no  means  impaired 
by  temporary  disuse,  even  as  a  violin  player  might  re- 
joice  that  his  bow  arm  had  lost  none  of  its  elasticity 
after  a  period  of  inaction. 

Thus  tuned  up  to  material  consideration,  she  sud- 
denly became  aware  that  she  had  left  the  safe  open.  In 
her  concern  and  alarm  she  almost  leapt  towards  it  like  a 
tigress,  and  closed  it  with  a  bang.  She  was  furious  with 
herself  for  her  carelessness. 


WHERE  YOUR  HEART  IS      305 

"  A  thing  I  have  never  done  before ! "  she  exclaimed 
angrily. 

If  Bramfield  had  come  in  at  that  moment,  he  would 
not  have  found  Tamar  looking  beautiful.  She  looked 
fiendish,  with  all  her  worst  qualities  of  suspiciousness, 
covetousness  and  meanness  aroused  to  their  fullest  ex- 
pression. 

Maude  Everard  glanced  at  her  and  became  terri- 
bly alarmed,  but  made  a  valiant  attempt  to  remain 
calm  —  and  succeeded.  She  rose  leisurely,  almost  list- 
lessly. 

"  I  think  I'll  be  off  now,"  she  said  with  an  innocent 
smile. 

"  No,  indeed,  you  won't,"  snapped  Tamar.  "  Do 
you  imagine  I  should  be  such  a  fool  as  to  let  you  go 
without  examining  the  safe?  It  was  bad  enough  to 
leave  it  open,  but  to  let  you  go  without  making  sure 
that  everything  was  intact  —  no,  thank  you.  I'm  not 
such  a  lunatic  as  that." 

Her  words  struck  terror  into  the  girl's  heart.  She 
would  have  sold  her  soul  at  that  moment  not  to  have 
stolen  that  ring.  But  she  was  plucky  enough  to  retain 
her  outward  composure.  She  knew  that  calmness  was 
her  best  asset  at  such  a  crisis.  And  she  tried  to  fortify 
herself  in  the  belief  that  this  awful  woman  would  not 
find  out  her  loss  immediately.  Afterwards  she  would, 
of  course.  But  surely  not  now.  No,  she  would  not  be 
likely  to  take  out  all  the  things  from  the  very  back  of 
the  safe  and  count  them.  There  was  that  barest 
chance;  and  the  girl  built  all  her  hopes  on  it,  as  with 
lynx  eyes  she  watched  T.  Scott  begin  that  torturing 
process  of  examination.  It  is  possible  that  her  quiet 
demeanour  impressed  Tamar  favourably,  for  though 


306      WHERE  YOUR  HEART  IS 

there  was  a  settled  grimness  on  her  face,  she  turned  to 
the  girl  and  said,  mildly  enough : 

"  I  know  everything  in  this  safe.  As  an  astronomer 
knows  his  stars,  so  I  know  my  jewels." 

The  girl's  heart  stood  still  from  renewed  fright.  If 
she  had  dared,  she  would  have  confessed  then  and  there, 
flung  down  the  stolen  ring  suddenly,  and  made  a  dash 
from  the  danger  zone  before  T.  Scott  could  have  de- 
tained her.  But  she  had  not  the  power.  She  was  be- 
coming paralysed  from  fear.  All  she  could  do,  was  to 
smile  a  sickly  smile,  watch  her  torturer  —  and  hope 
against  hope. 

Tamar  took  her  time.  She  went  over  every  treasure 
carefully  and  deliberately,  and  nodded  her  head  repeat- 
edly, as  if  to  signify  her  satisfaction  that  so  far  she 
had  found  all  her  possessions  undisturbed.  She  even 
glanced  reassuringly  at  her  victim  and  said,  with  some 
sort  of  an  attempt  at  sulky  apology  and  explanation : 

"  You  see,  in  my  kind  of  business,  one  could  not  trust 
even  one's  dearest  friend  —  if  one  owned  such  a  doubt- 
ful article." 

She  did  not  put  her  hand  at  the  back  of  the  upper 
shelf.  She  passed  on  to  the  lower  shelf.  Then  some 
idea  must  have  occurred  to  her,  and  she  returned  to  the 
upper  shelf.  She  paused,  rummaged,  sorted,  and  nod- 
ded again.  The  girl  gave  a  sigh  of  relief.  She  dared 
to  believe  that  the  situation  was  saved.  But  she  was 
mistaken.  She  had  been  misled  by  that  last  nod. 

Tamar  turned  away  from  the  safe,  and  without  look- 
ing up  or  uttering  a  word  of  warning  as  to  her  inten- 
tions, strolled  casually  towards  the  telephone.  There 
she  paused. 

"  I  am  sending  for  the  police,"  she  said  slowly.     "  I 


WHERE  YOUR  HEART  IS      307 

miss  an  emerald  ring  —  the  valuable  emerald  ring  that 
I  showed  you." 

She  had  already  raised  the  receiver  when  the  girl 
caught  her  hand  and  intercepted  her. 

"  Don't  —  don't,  I  implore  you,"  she  cried.  "  I  took 
it  -=—  I  have  it  here  —  here  it  is  —  the  temptation  was 
too  great  —  I  couldn't  resist  it  —  I  don't  know  how  I 
could  have  done  it  —  it  was  an  impulse  —  indeed,  it  was 
—  but  it  was  such  a  chance  —  and  I  need  the  money  so 
badly  —  I  have  to  get  a  hundred  and  fifty  pounds  some- 
how —  and  I've  been  counting  on  that  emerald  which 
you  say  is  reconstructed  —  I  stole  it  on  impulse,  and  I 
would  have  given  worlds  to  have  put  it  back  at  once 
but  couldn't  —  I  —  I  implore  you  —  don't  —  don't  dis- 
grace me  —  have  mercy  on  me  —  here  is  the  ring  — 
you  see,  here  it  is  —  take  it  and  let  me  go  —  don't  — 
don't  —  disgrace  me." 

She  clutched  at  Tamar's  hand,  at  her  arm,  at  her 
dress.  In  her  agony  of  mind  she  knelt  to  her. 

"  Fool,  worm,"  Tamar  hissed  out.  "  Did  you  sup- 
pose I  shouldn't  know?  Why  should  I  have  mercy  on 
you?  What  are  you  to  me?  What  are  your  con- 
temptible bridge  debts  to  me?  Why  shouldn't  I  dis- 
grace you?  Get  up.  I  don't  want  any  one  to  kneel 
to  me.  If  you  knelt  to  me  a  thousand  years,  it  would 
not  make  the  least  difference  to  me." 

The  girl  got  up  and  stood  before  Tamar  in  a  mute 
despair.  No  further  words  passed  her  lips,  no  tears 
ran  down  her  cheeks,  no  sobs  escaped  her.  She  had 
made  her  appeal,  and  she  knew  she  had  failed,  and  noth- 
ing remained  for  her  except  despair,  humiliation,  ex- 
posure. She  recognized  Tamar's  inexorableness  as 
something  fixed  and  final. 


308      WHERE  YOUR  HEART  IS 

But  the  very  intensity  of  her  hopelessness,  and  her  al- 
most tragically  swift  acceptance  of  an  intended  unmer- 
cifulness  presented  to  Tamar  a  petition  far  more  likely 
to  be  granted  than  any  further  outburst  of  hysterical 
pleading.  She  realized  that  this  stranger  who  knew 
nothing  of  her,  had  gauged  her  natural  pitilessness  and 
felt  that  all  effort  against  it  was  futile.  The  thought 
gave  Tamar  pause.  She  did  not  quite  like  it. 

Was  she,  then,  so  cruel  ?  Did  she  give  the  impression 
of  being  entirely  unreachable  by  human  distress?  The 
girl,  of  course,  ought  to  be  disgraced,  deserved  to  be 
disgraced.  But  she  had  not  definitely  said  that  she  was 
going  to  disgrace  her.  She  had  only  said  that  if  she 
went  on  kneeling  a  thousand  years  it  would  not  make 
any  difference. 

Nor  would  it. 

What  would  make  a  difference  was  that  she  was 
young  —  and  with  her  life  before  her  —  and  that  she 
had  acted  on  impulse  —  it  was  obvious  that  she  was  not 
a  professional  thief,  but  a  frivolous  fool  of  a  society 
girl  —  an  odious  type  —  but  young  and  with  all  the 
appeal  of  youth  about  her  —  suppose  now  it  had  been 
Marion,  or  Dorothy,  or  Winifred  or  any  of  those  young 
things  circling  round  her  - —  and  it  had  been  a  tempta- 
tion —  Tamar  herself  by  her  own  carelessness  had 
actually  placed  the  temptation  in  the  minx's  way  —  a 
temptation  —  and  if  one  began  to  think  about  tempta- 
tions —  well  .  .  . 

And  suddenly  a  very  curious  thing  happened.  The 
shop  bell  rang,  and  Tamar,  having  transfixed  her  vic- 
tim with  a  glance,  went  to  the  door  and  found  Inspector 
Winifred  Thornton,  looking  more  imposing  and  official 
than  ever  in  her  smart  uniform. 


WHERE  YOUR  HEART  IS      309 

"  Please  stay  here  in  the  shop,"  Tamar  said,  with  a 
nod  of  welcome.  "  I'll  be  back  in  a  moment." 

But  as  she  hurried  to  the  inner  room,  the  remem- 
brance of  her  own  great  temptation  in  Winifred's 
home,  in  the  library,  smote  her  like  a  blast.  She  re- 
called how  she  had  stolen  the  pearls,  restored  them, 
stolen  them  again,  put  them  back  once  more  —  and 
then  fled  because  she  could  not  trust  herself.  She 
could  not  boast. 

No,  she  could  not  boast. 

"  Go,"  she  said  to  the  girl  in  a  voice  that  trembled. 
"  Go,  before  I  repent.  Be  off  with  your  reconstructed 
emerald  —  and  don't  dare  show  your  face  here  again." 

The  girl  raised  her  head  with  a  jerk.  Her  eyes" 
shone.  The  buoyancy  of  youth  returned  to  her  as  if 
by  magic.  And  without  even  glancing  at  Tamar,  she 
fled  instantly  from  the  room,  with  the  precipitancy  of  a 
young  animal  suddenly  released  from  the  chain.  But, 
to  her  unspeakable  horror,  a  policewoman  was  stationed 
at  the  door  barring  the  exit.  The  role  of  custodian  of 
the  peace  fitted  Winifred  to  a  nicety.  No  one  in  the 
whole  universe  looked  and  was  more  suitable  for  the 
position. 

The  girl  uttered  a  low  cry  of  alarm,  and  stood  stock 
stiU. 

But  Tamar  who  had  followed  her,  said : 

"  You  needn't  be  frightened.  She  hasn't  come  to  ar- 
rest you  —  but  to  free  you.  Be  off." 

She  escaped. 

Winifred  turned  to  Tamar  immediately  she  had  gone. 

"  Do  tell  me  what  it  all  means,"  she  said.  "  I  should 
be  so  interested  psychologically." 

"  I  daresay  you  would,"  Tamar  answered,  but  she 


310  WHERE  YOUR  HEART  IS 

gave  no  explanation;  and  Winifred  never  knew  what 
part  she  had  unconsciously  played  in  that  little  drama. 

Two  or  three  mornings  after  this  incident,  Tamar 
received  by  post  the  little  round  lime  box  to  which  she 
had  taken  such  an  absurd  fancy.  There  was  no  mes- 
sage enclosed  in  the  packet,  but  none  was  needed  to  ex- 
plain the  significance  of  the  gift. 

"  So  the  minx  was  grateful,"  mused  Tamar.  "  Well, 
she  had  her  lesson  in  more  ways  than  one.  And  I  tor- 
tured her.  I  tortured  her  well,  with  that  long-drawn- 
out  searching  of  the  safe.  She  must  have  suffered  ago- 
nies of  uncertainty  —  poor  little  wretch.  I'm  not  sure, 
not  quite  sure  that  I  should  have  let  her  off,  if  Wini- 
fred had  not  appeared  at  an  opportune  moment  to 
strengthen  my  sudden  remembrance  of  my  own  tempta- 
tion over  those  four  pearls." 


CHAPTER  VII 

TAMAR  had  occasion  to  go  to  Bradford  to  attend 
an  important  auction  sale,  of  which  Bramfield, 
ever  watchful  on  her  behalf,  had  notified  her.  Rupert 
who  was  in  town  at  the  time,  reminded  her  that  Lalling- 
ton  was  not  far  from  Bradford,  and  charged  her  to  go 
and  see  his  mother,  who  had  been  seized  with  a  sudden 
longing  for  her  old  home,  and  had  abandoned  Blooms- 
bury  for  a  little  while.  He  was  joining  her  soon,  he 
said  but  he  had  been  feeling  "  fed  up  "  with  archaeology 
and  with  his  own  attempts  at  writing,  and  was  rather 
wanting  to  get  some  definite  war  work  to  do  in  London, 
something  in  the  Censor's  Office,  he  thought,  or  failing 
that,  something  at  the  Red  Cross,  in  the  Department 
for  the  Missing,  which  appealed  to  him  specially. 

"  I  could  do  that,"  he  said  rather  pathetically,  glanc- 
ing at  his  disabled  arm  and  leg.  "  I  should  be  of  some 
use  then  in  this  old  war  which  has  come  to  stay." 

"  But  you  have  done  your  part,  more  than  done  it," 
Tamar  said. 

"  Yes,  but  one  wants  to  go  on  doing  it  in  some  sort  of 
crocky  old  way,  if  one  can,"  he  said  with  a  smile.  "  I 
thought  I  shouldn't  want  to.  But  some  of  the  things 
which  have  been  happening  lately  have  upset  me  tre- 
mendously. That  murder  of  Edith  Cavell,  for  one. 
And  as  the  news  from  the  Front  comes  in,  sometimes 
good,  sometimes  bad,  I  tell  you  I  don't  know  how  to 

bear  myself.     I  want  to  be  everywhere,  in  France,  in 

311 


WHERE  YOUR  HEART  IS 

Flanders,  at  Kut,  at  Gallipoli  —  anywhere  so  long  as 
I  am  in  it." 

There  is  no  doubt  that  he  had  been  feeling  increas- 
ingly his  enforced  inaction;  and  Tom's  departure  had 
stirred  him  up  and  unsettled  him.  Dorothy's  absence 
also  had  added  to  his  unrest.  But  he  bore  it  quite  un- 
complainingly, and  spoke  to  Tamar  now  with  pride  and 
pleasure  of  the  work  she  was  doing  in  Belgium  with  her 
Corps. 

"  If  she  doesn't  get  the  Ordre  de  Leopold  II,  I  refuse 
to  marry  her  when  she  wants  me  to,"  he  said.  "  I've 
told  her  that  plainly.  Meanwhile  I  must  get  some 
things  together  for  the  one  and  only  home,  if  we  are 
ever  to  have  one.  How  about  this  Limoges  enamel? 
Wasn't  that  the  plaque  she  admired  so  much  ?  " 

"  Yes,"  Tamar  said.  "  But  it  isn't  for  sale,  Mr.  Ru- 
pert. It  is  going  to  be  my  wedding  gift  to  her  when 
the  time  comes." 

His  face  flushed  with  pleasure. 

"  But  I  know  you  like  it  and  prize  it,"  he  said. 
"  You  said  at  the  time  you  would  part  with  it  very  re- 
luctantly." 

"Well,  so  I  shall,"  she  answered.  "But  all  the 
same,  it's  going  to  beautify  that  one  and  only  home, 
when  the  time  comes." 

It  was  remarkable  how  she  had  gradually  identified 
herself  with  the  interests  of  the  Thornton  family.  In 
the  course  of  her  business  life  Tamar  had  visited  homes 
all  over  England,  and  no  single  individual,  no  groups 
of  people  had  ever  meant  anything  to  her.  She  had  not 
given  anything  of  herself  to  them  nor  received  anything 
from  them,  probably  because  she  had  felt  no  need  to  give 


WHERE  YOUR  HEART  IS      313 

or  receive.  But  there  comes  a  moment  in  the  life  of 
every  one,  however  aloof,  when  a  heart-hunger  asserts 
itself  and  will  not  be  denied.  She  must  have  been  in 
this  condition  when  she  went  to  Lallington  and  found 
this  family  ready  to  like  and  annex  her.  If  she  had 
brought  them  news  of  good  fortune,  and  offered  them 
an  interpretation  of  their  father  confirmed  by  his  brief 
comment  written  in  the  corner  of  the  old  family  paper, 
they  had  in  exchange  shown  and  handed  to  her  hidden 
treasure,  the  value  of  which  they  did  not  realize  any 
more  than  they  had  realized  the  worth  of  the  precious 
stones  she  had  priced  for  them  —  the  treasure  of  new 
interests,  young  upspringing  companionship,  trust, 
confidence  and  the  claims  of  friendship  —  priceless  gems 
to  those  who  have  known  something  of  the  loneliness  of 
middle  age.  Very  grateful  did  Tamar  feel  to  the 
Thorntons,  one  and  all,  and  to  Rupert  specially,  for  his 
silence  which  she  never  forgot.  She  thought  of  it  now 
when  he  asked  her  to  go  and  see  his  mother.  His  words 
echoed  back  to  her:  "  Oh,  it's  nothing  —  only  a  little 
seed  pearl  of  no  value." 

Since  then,  never  for  a  moment  had  she  felt  uneasy, 
nor  at  a  disadvantage  with  him  on  account  of  his  per- 
sonal experience  of  her  graspingness.  There  was  some- 
thing large  and  noble  in  his  nature,  a  spaciousness  of 
understanding  born  of  an  idealism,  which  always  re- 
minded her  of  that  young  clergyman,  Richard  Forest, 
whom  she  had  known  in  the  past,  and  who  had  lost  his 
life  in  saving  the  lives  of  others  in  a  fire.  Richard  For- 
est had  always  seemed  to  her  as  one  set  apart.  Rupert 
gave  that  same  impression  at  times,  and  his  interest  in 
human  affairs  was  often  tempered  by  vague  probings 


314      WHERE  YOUR  HEART  IS 

and  searchings  for  things  that  "  met  not  the  eye."  An 
instance  of  this  tendency  occurred  before  he  left  the 
shop  that  day.  He  said  to  Tamar : 

"  I  shall  be  curious  to  know  what  happens  to  you 
mentally  when  you  go  to  Marton  Grange  again.  I 
wonder  whether  you  will  have  another  definite  conviction 
that  there  are  further  precious  stones  which  we  Thorn- 
tons have  not  been  able  to  discover.  It  would  be  great 
to  have  more  treasure,  of  course,  though  we  really  don't 
want  more.  But  it  would  be  positively  thrilling  if  an- 
other '  wireless  '  were  to  come  from  my  father  to  you 
—  your  spiritual  kinship  with  him  making  it  possible. 
That's  the  point  which  interests  me.  I  care  more  and 
more  about  these  subjects,  and  long  to  know  more.  Do 
you  care?  You  must,  I  think.  You  are  very  psychic 
yourself." 

"  I  have  had  moments,  Mr.  Rupert,"  she  said  dream- 
ily, "  but  they  have  been  rare.  Such  moments  are  rare. 
They  steal  on  one  unawares  —  like  a  thief  in  the  night. 
One  cannot  prepare  for  them.  If  they  come,  they  come. 
But  I  don't  suppose  I  shall  ever  hold  converse  with  your 
father  again.  There  is  no  reason  why  I  should." 

"  There  might  be,"  he  said.  "  When  I  read  your 
book,  and  note  the  name  of  any  stone  which  you  record 
as  being  dear  to  a  collector's  heart,  though  not  valuable 
in  any  other  sense,  I  often  wonder  whether  you,  by  fo- 
cussing on  that  thought,  could  put  yourself  deliberately 
in  the  pathway  of  the  wireless.  Suppose,  for  instance, 
you  said:  *  Well,  we  have  not  found  dematoid.'  That 
is  one  of  the  stones  yqu  mention." 

Tamar  smiled.  She  loved  to  know  that  Rupert  knew 
her  book  so  thoroughly.  Though  she  seldom  spoke  of 
it,  no  author,  living  or  dead,  could  ever  have  been  more 


WHERE  YOUR  HEART  IS      315 

proud  and  pleased  than  she  was  over  an  assurance  of 
appreciation. 

. "  But,  you  see,  Mr.  Rupert,"  she  said,  "  I  should  have 
had  first  to  be  convinced  that  dematoid,  or  essonite, 
or  chiastolite,  were  necessary  to  your  father's  pride 
as  a  collector.  He  might  have  had  any  of  them,  of 
course.  But  I  should  not  know,  for  the  thought  of 
them  leaves  me  cold.  But  the  flame-red  spinel  didn't. 
Anything  but.  It  was  the  intensity  of  my  belief  —  the 
burning  intensity  of  it  which  let  that  message  come 
through.  Such  a  thing  is  not  likely  to  occur  again." 

"  Well,  you  will  tell  me  exactly  how  }TOU  get  on,  and 
what  feelings  you  had?  "  he  asked. 

She  promised. 

But  his  words  and  the  thoughts  they  suggested 
haunted  her.  On  her  way  up  to  Bradford  she  found 
herself  "  preparing  for  a  moment  "  by  enumerating  the 
interesting  gems  which  Mr.  Thornton  might  have  had, 
but  which  she  did  not  remember  to  have  found  in  his 
collection.  Even  during  the  auction  sale,  when  her  at- 
tention ought  to  have  been  entirely  concentrated  on  her 
own  affairs,  she  had  a  lapse  of  watchfulness,  because  she 
was  saying  to  herself: 

"  Did  lie  by  any  chance  have  one  of  those  sapphires 
which  change  from  a  blue  colour  by  daylight  to  a  purple 
by  artificial  light?  " 

She  lost  a  beautiful  bit  of  china  by  this  aberration, 
and  was  furious  with  herself,  the  auctioneer,  the  success- 
ful bidder,  Rupert,  his  father,  and  all  the  Thornton 
family.  She  was  so  annoyed  that  she  almost  decided 
not  to  trouble  to  go  to  Lallington.  But  after  she  had 
secured  some  George  II  silver  on  which  she  had  set  her 
mind,  she  recovered  her  temper;  and  a  telegram  of  wel- 


316      WHERE  YOUR  HEART  IS 

come  from  Mrs.  Thornton  which,  awaited  her  at  the 
hotel,  made  her  content  to  carry  out  her  original  inten- 
tion. When  later  she  arrived  at  Lallington  station, 
she  was  glad  that  she  had  come,  glad  to  see  the  moors 
and  the  slopes  with  their  belt  of  trees,  and  to  feel  the 
impact  of  the  clean,  strong  air. 

The  little  yellow  'bus  was  waiting  to  take  passengers 
up  to  the  village,  but  she  let  it  go  without  her,  for  she 
had  the  impulse  to  call  at  the  Station  Hotel  and  inquire 
whether  all  was  well  with  that  soldier  father  in  India 
and  that  brisk  little  daughter  who  was  helping  her 
mother  so  splendidly  to  run  the  business.  Hetty  Pass- 
more  knew  her  at  once,  whipped  up  her  suit-case,  and 
had  soon  whipped  in  a  tempting  tea-tray  with  some  con- 
vincing Yorkshire  buns. 

"  And  what  do  you  think  ?  "  she  said,  as  she  poured 
out  the  tea  for  Tamar.  "  Father  is  home  safely.  He's 
in  hospital  recovering  from  enteric,  in  the  Second  Lon- 
don General.  Mother  and  I  went  up  to  see  him,  and 
we  all  cried  together.  It  was  so  jolly.  He's  awfully 
weak  and  thin,  but  at  least  he  is  safe." 

"  I  am  glad,"  Tamar  said,  smiling  at  her.  "  Then 
you'll  soon  be  having  him  here  to  see  how  well  you've 
been  looking  after  things  in  his  absence." 

"  He  pretends  we  can  get  on  perfectly  well  without 
him,"  she  laughed.  "  A  sort  of  wax  martyrdom,  I 
think." 

Mrs.  Passmore  looked  in  to  see  Tamar. 

"  So  the  rumour  about  the  jewels  was  true,  after  all," 
she  said.  "  The  Thorntons  came  into  a  large  fortune." 

"  Did  they?  "  T.  Scott  said  innocently. 

"  It  was  such  a  surprise  to  every  one,"  Mrs.  Passmore 
continued.  "Every  one  thought  Mr.  Thornton  was 


WHERE  YOUR  HEART  IS      317 

only  taken  up  with  old  bones  and  arrow-heads,  and  the 
like." 

"  Indeed,"  said  T.  Scott  guilelessly. 

"  Men  are  deceitful  and  no  mistake,"  Mrs.  Passmore 
added.  "  You  never  know  what  they're  up  to.  Always 
hiding  up  something.  Still,  I'm  not  saying  that  this 
particular  bit  of  deceit  wasn't  innocent  enough  —  and 
only  a  pleasant  surprise  for  the  family.  I  wouldn't 
have  minded  it  myself.  And  yet  they  do  say  that  Mrs. 
Thornton  frets  a  good  deal." 

"  Ah,"  said  T.  Scott  vaguely. 

"  Think  of  it,"  said  Mrs.  Passmore,  "  pearls  and  dia- 
monds and  rubies  and  emeralds,  and  every  jewel  under 
the  sun,  and  not  so  much  as  a  little  seed-pearl  ever  seen 
on  Miss  Winifred  or  Miss  Marion." 

"  Very  astonishing,"  remarked  T.  Scott,  with  in- 
creased woodenness.  "  People  are  astonishing." 

And  that  was  her  only  comment.  She  laughed  si- 
lently to  think  that  any  one  should  attempt  the  hopeless 
task  of  drawing  T.  Scott.  No  human  being  existed 
who  could  have  surprised  Tamar's  fortress  of  cautious- 
ness. The  Government  ought  to  have  commandeered 
her  for  the  Secret  Service. 

Hetty  Passmore,  who  was  going  to  see  some  friends 
in  the  village,  accompanied  her  up  the  hill.  They  lin- 
gered at  the  bridge,  noted  the  turbulence  of  the  rushing 
river  swollen  by  recent  rains,  and  then  mounted  the  hill 
slowly.  Five  or  six  dogs  went  with  them,  for  Hetty 
always  had  a  retinue  of  collies,  three  of  her  own  and  two 
neighbours  who  invariably  claimed  the  right  to  share 
her  joyous  companionship.  They  leapt  round  her  at 
intervals  and  nearly  knocked  her  down,  a  proceeding 
she  appeared  to  enjoy  thoroughly. 


318      WHERE  YOUR  HEART  IS 

It  was  getting  dark,  and  one  by  one  the  stars  were 
declaring  themselves.  Tamar  and  her  companion 
stopped  to  look  at  them,  and  to  watch  the  outline  of  the 
moors  grow  dimmer  and  gradually  merge  into  the  mys- 
tery of  the  fading  light.  The  life  of  the  little  moun- 
tain village  was  over  for  the  day.  No  flocks  of  sheep, 
no  herds  of  cattle  were  passing  down  the  cobbled  street. 
At  the  blacksmith's,  where  they  paused  to  take  breath, 
all  was  silence,  and  no  children  were  playing  round  the 
old  pump  in  the  square.  The  lights  in  the  cottages 
were  carefully  screened,  the  Defence  of  the  Realm  re- 
quiring darkness  even  in  this  out-of-the-way  place. 

Tamar  felt  a  sense  of  desolation  creeping  over  her. 
She  wondered  why  she  had  come.  Legends  of  the  coun- 
try instilled  into  her  by  the  Thorntons  recurred  to  her. 
She  almost  expected  to  feel  Barguest,  the  soft-footed 
hound,  brush  against  her.  She  thought  that  if  he  did, 
her  hair,  like  that  of  the  Passmores'  old  serving-man, 
would  certainly  stand  on  end  and  never  come  down  for 
three  whole  days.  Or  was  she  perhaps  going  to  see  the 
old  monk  on  his  way  to  Marton  Grange,  where  he  would 
stand  and  look  in  through  the  Norman  window,  asking 
silently  for  admittance?  And  stay  —  was  it  not  on 
this  very  spot  that  she  had  seen  in  her  dream  that  tall 
man,  with  a  thin  face,  and  lantern- jawed,  who  had  sud- 
denly come  round  the  corner  by  the  blacksmith's  forge 
and  had  said  to  her  with  a  slight  stutter : 

"  I've  been  expecting  you  to  come.  I  want  to  show 
you  my  spinels,  especially  my  flame-red  spinel." 

Was  she  going  to  see  him  now?  She  felt  as  if  she 
were.  And  again  she  began  "  preparing  for  a  mo- 
ment "  by  speculating  on  the  stones  he  might  have  had 
in  his  collection,  but  which  had  not  been  found.  How 


WHERE  YOUR  HEART  IS 

about  a  cinnamon-brown  sphene,  for  instance?  No, 
not  very  likely.  Or  a  dematoid,  after  all?  Or  an  axi- 
nite?  No,  not  very  likely,  either.  Oh  .  .  . 

Hetty  Passmore's  voice  recalled  her  from  the  land  of 
surmise. 

"  Here  you  are  at  the  turning  for  Marton  Grange," 
she  said.  "  You  can't  miss  it  now.  Good-night." 

It  was  evident  that  Mrs.  Thornton  had  been  fretting, 
Tamar  thought  that  she  was  probably  anxious  about 
Tom,  who  for  some  weeks  now  had  been  at  the  Front. 
There  were  traces  of  sadness  on  her  face,  and  in  her 
eye  signs  of  painful  searching  for,  straining  after,  some- 
thing beyond  her  power  of  vision  But  as  the  evening' 
wore  on,  she  brightened  up,  and  Knitted  busily  as  usual, 
whilst  Tamar,  in  an  arm-chair  drawn  up  to  the  cosy  fire, 
related  her  experiences  in  Holland;  told  her  about  the 
kind  Dutch  and  their  care  of  the  children  —  those  lit- 
tle strangers  within  their  gates  —  and  recounted  all  the 
tales  she  could  remember  of  spies  and  escaped  prisoners 
and  smuggling.  And  where  she  could  not  remember  she 
invented.  She  ended  up  with  a  spirited  account  of  the 
fashionable  young  woman  who  stole  the  ring  and  was 
terrified  when  she  saw  Winifred  unconsciously  barring 
her  exit  from  the  shop. 

This  bit  of  news  amused  Mrs.  Thornton  more  than 
anything. 

"  Winifred  is  a  little  terrifying  sometimes  even  out 
of  uniform,"  she  laughed.  "  But  in  uniform  —  well,  I 
think  even  Tom  is  impressed !  " 

She  had  received  a  letter  from  Winifred  that  morn- 
ning  saying  that  she  had  been  promoted  to  the  rank 
of  inspector,  and  giving  the  good  news  that  the  Women 


320      WHERE  YOUR  HEART  IS 

Police  Service  had  definitely  been  appointed  by  the 
Ministry  of  Munitions  to  act  as  guards  for  certain 
factories. 

"  This  is  only  one  step,"  she  wrote,  "  but  it  will  lead 
to  others,  and  we  are  sure  that  work  will  open  out  for 
us  in  many  directions.  I  am  to  go  to  a  factory  where 
several  thousand  women  are  employed  in  the  manufac- 
ture and  disposal  of  the  most  dangerous  explosive  de- 
manded by  the  war." 

She  had  heard  from  Tom  also,  who  said  that  he  was 
all  right,  having  the  time  of  his  life  and  making  an  inti- 
mate acquaintance  with  "  Archie." 

She  was  happy  in  her  children  and  proud  of  what 
they  were  doing  —  one  of  those  thousands  and  thou- 
sands of  mothers  who  sent  out  their  dearest  with  a  bless- 
ing, to  serve,  to  suffer,  to  return  maimed  —  or  not  to 
return. 

It  was  nearly  midnight  when  they  went  to  bed.  Mrs. 
Thornton  took  Tamar  to  her  room. 

"  It  was  kind  of  you  to  come,"  she  said.  "  You've 
done  me  good.  You  always  do  me  good." 

"  Isn't  it  rather  solitary  for  you  here  alone?  "  Tamar 
asked  kindly. 

"  If  it  is  a  little  desolate  at  times,  it  is  my  own  fault," 
she  answered.  "  I  wanted  to  come. 

"  The  past  called  me,"  she  went  on.  "  Rupert  did 
not  wish  to  leave  me,  but  I  urged  him  to  go  to  London. 
He  longs  for  Dorothy,  I  know,  though  he  says  very  little 
about  his  longing.  His  patience  and  chivalry  always 
touch  me.  He  is  very  chivalrous." 

Tamar  nodded  thinking  of  the  little  seed  pearl. 

"  He  frets  sometimes  that  he  cannot  take  any  active 
part  in  the  war,"  Mrs.  Thornton  continued.  "  He  did 


WHERE  YOUR  HEART  IS 

not  at  first  when  he  returned.  He  was  too  ill.  But 
now  that  he  is  better,  something  is  stirring  in  him  again. 
Your  friend  from  Holland  fired  him,  as  she  fired  all  of 
us  that  night.  And  he  could  not  forget  the  poor  young 
Belgian  woman.  Nor  could  I.  For  days  after,  he  kept 
on  saying  how  terrible  it  would  be  if  such  a  fate  should 
overtake  our  country.  And  Tom's  departure  affected 
him  greatly.  He  longed  to  go  also.  And  I  think  he 
has  been  too  much  taken  up  with  his  father's  book  — 
yes,  and  with  haunting  thoughts  of  his  father.  I  don't 
want  that  for  him.  So  I  sent  him  away." 

She  paused. 

**  The  past  is  not  for  the  young,"  she  said.  "  The 
future  is  for  them.  But  to  the  old,  the  past  speaks 
sometimes  —  often  —  with  a  voice  which  cannot  be 
silenced  —  which  we  do  not  want  to  be  silenced.  Good- 
night, dear  friend.  Your  presence  is  a  comfort  to  me. 
I  shall  sleep  well  tonight." 

Tamar  stood  for  a  long  time  in  thought  after  she  had 
gone.  She  wondered  at  what  stage  in  a  person's  life 
the  past  began  to  claim  more  than  the  future  promised. 
She  looked  back  over  her  own  life,  and  realized  that 
events  and  experiences  which  had  made  a  profound  im- 
pression on  her  at  the  time,  had  quickly  lost  their  im- 
port for  her.  Would  they  regain  their  ascendancy, 
and  when?  When  she  was  fifty?  No,  probably  not, 
because  at  middle-age  people  were  often  able  to  review 
the  past  years  critically,  dispassionately,  and  with  an 
aloofness  and  independence  which  inferred  freedom  from 
all  bondage  of  thought.  No,  not  at  fifty.  Well,  at 
sixty,  say?  Ten  years  for  the  future  to  have  failed  in 
promise,  and  the  present  to  have  lost  its  hold  and  then 
a  slow,  silent,  secret  stealing  back  to  the  things  of  the 


322      WHERE  YOUR  HEART  IS 

past,  which  by  reason  of  the  distant  vision  look  on  all 
the  vague  outlined  beauties  of  a  Promised  Land.  Per- 
haps not  even  at  sixty. 

She  laughed  at  herself.  Absurd  to  suppose  that  this 
stealing  back  could  be  dated,  like  those  bonbonnieres 
and  silver  she  had  secured  at  the  Bradford  auction  sale. 
It  depended  on  temperament,  on  one's  power  of  long- 
ing, on  the  strength  of  one's  regrets,  on  the  thousand 
and  one  differentiations  of  mind  and  brain  —  and  on 
one's  arteries.  That  was  what  Bramfield  was  always 
speaking  of  —  people's  age  depending  on  the  condition 
of  their  arteries.  Take  Bramfield,  now.  He  was  nearly 
sixty.  He  had  not  begun  to  live  in  the  past,  nor  to 
want  it  in  any  way.  The  present  engrossed  him  and  the 
future  still  beckoned  to  him,  and  would  beckon  for  a 
long  time.  But  then,  he  was  of  an  exceptional  nature, 
so  bright  and  eager  —  almost  boyish  in  his  impetuous- 
ness. 

Never  had  she  been  worthy  of  him.  Never  could  she 
be  worthy.  But  she  said  to  herself  that  in  her  own  way 
she  loved  him  dearly,  always  more  and  more,  not  less, 
and  that  life  without  him  would  be  unthinkable.  If  she 
were  to  lose  him,  would  she  then  live  in  the  past,  no 
matter  what  her  age,  and  pine  for  the  joys  out  of  her 
reach  and  the  chances  on  which  she  had  for  so  many 
years  turned  her  back?  In  her  eyes,  then,  as  in  Mrs. 
Thornton's  now,  would  there  be  a  searchlight,  searching 
for  something  hidden  in  the  mystery  of  death? 

These  thoughts  and  the  questions  they  raised,  passed 
from  her  mind  and  gave  way  to  memories  of  the  first 
night  she  had  spent  in  Marton  Grange.  Once  more  she 
saw  before  her  that  beautiful  collection  of  precious 
stones,  stowed  away  in  such  curious  hiding-places. 


WHERE  YOUR  HEART  IS      323 

Once  more  those  pearls  she  had  coveted  and  nearly 
stolen,  danced  before  her  eyes.  Once  more  the  flame- 
red  spinel  shone  for  her  like  a  bit  of  burning  coal. 
And  against  all  inclinations,  for  she  was  deadly  tired, 
her  mind  reverted  to  her  talk  with  Rupert,  and  she  fell 
a-wondering  afresh  what  other  stones  a  passionate  lover 
of  gems  might  possibly  have  had  in  his  collection. 

"  Not  dematoid,  not  axinite,  not  .  .  ." 

She  fell  asleep  from  sheer  fatigue. 

She  awoke  after  an  hour  or  two  of  entire  oblivion; 
but  the  obsession  renewed  itself  the  moment  she  awoke 
and  left  her  no  peace.  Yet  no  conviction  forced  itself 
on  her  as  before.  Vague  surmises  and  conjectures 
alone  presented  themselves ;  but  no  guiding  message  was 
borne  to  her  from  the  unseen  world.  Her  own  words 
to  Rupert  echoed  back  to  her : 

"  Such  moments  are  rare.  If  they  come,  they  come. 
One  cannot  prepare  for  them." 

She  tried  to  rivet  her  thoughts  elsewhere.  She  tried 
to  think  of  Bramfield,  of  Bruce,  of  Gertrude  Linton,  of 
her  last  successful  deal,  of  a  crucifix  which  she  might  be 
able  to  fake  up  into  Spanish  seventeenth  century. 

But  in  vain.  And  at  last,  because  she  could  not  help 
herself,  she  threw  on  her  coat  and  stole  downstairs  to 
the  library. 

There  was  not  a  sound  to  be  heard  in  the  house,  ex- 
cept the  ticking  of  the  old  hall  clock.  Outside,  too, 
there  was  no  sound.  It  was  a  calm,  clear,  star-jewelled 
night.  Tamar  looked  through  the  window  at  the  stars. 
Myriads  of  them  there  seemed,  and  how  extraordinarily 
beautiful!  Shimmering  gem-stones  by  the  myriad. 
Was  that  all  she  had  come  down  to  see?  What  exactly 


324      WHERE  YOUR  HEART  IS 

had  she  come  down  for?  Yet  now  here,  a  vision  of 
those  luscious  sea-gems  again  rose  before  her,  and  she 
hungered  for  them  as  she  hungered  for  them  when  her 
enchanted  eyes  first  beheld  them. 

Supposing  she  were  to  find  something  entrancingly 
beautiful  now  —  an  emerald  of  a  specially  fine  velvet, 
superb  in  itself  and  of  great  value  —  would  she  want  to 
steal  it  in  the  silence  and  safety  of  the  night,  the  stars 
alone  as  witnesses  of  her  act?  Perhaps  she  would. 
She  could  not  say  for  certain  she  would  not,  not  even 
after  her  true  repentance  and  the  acute  realization  of 
her  shame.  But  she  hoped  she  would  not  even  be 
tempted.  How  splendid  if  she  could  say  to  Bramfield, 
who  loved  to  know  when  she  was  at  her  best : 

"  Bramfield,  I  found  a  priceless  emerald,  secretly,  in 
the  silence  of  the  night,  and  with  no  witnesses  except  the 
stars.  And  this  time  my  only  feeling  was  that  of  joy 
over  its  exceeding  beauty.  I  had  no  impulse  to  steal 
it." 

But  it  was  not  likely  that  she  would  be  put  to  the  test. 
There  was  nothing  to  be  tempted  over.  Of  that  she  felt 
sure.  She  would  not  even  search  for  treasure.  If 
there  had  been  anything,  she  would  have  received  tidings 
of  it  from  her  comrade  in  spirit  —  and  sensed  it.  He 
had  guided  her  to  the  spinels.  He  had  guided  Rupert 
to  the  old  family  document.  He  had  probably  yielded 
up  the  whole  of  his  collection,  and  he  had  certainly 
yielded  up  the  story  of  his  soul. 

There  was  no  reason  why  she  should  have  come,  and 
no  reason  why  she  should  stay;  and  yet  she  lingered, 
unable  to  leave.  She  sank  into  the  armchair  in  the  cor- 
ner formerly  occupied  by  the  pile  of  papers  and  manu- 
scripts under  which  she  had  found  the  old  Bible-box. 


WHERE  YOUR  HEART  IS      325 

The  pile  had  gone.  The  Bible-box  had  also  gone.  But 
otherwise  the  room  had  not  changed  in  aspect,  nor  had 
the  feeling  in  the  room  changed.  Tamar  could  imagine 
Mr.  Thornton  stealing  into  his  den  by  night,  making 
sure  that  he  had  locked  the  door,  taking  out  one  of 
those  deceitful  dummy  volumes,  smiling  furtively  as  he 
did  so,  and  placing  it  tenderly  on  his  desk.  Now  he 
had  opened  it.  And  now  he  was  putting  the  stones  one 
by  one  on  the  table  and  revelling  in  their  loveliness. 
Which  of  them  had  been  his  favourite?  She  would  like 
to  have  known  that.  So  real  was  the  scene  to  her,  that 
she  nearly  called  out : 

"  Tell  me  which  was  your  favourite." 

She  thought  it  was  strange  that  he  had  left  no  record 
of  his  passion,  and  that  not  even  a  disjointed  reference 
to  it  had  been  found,  except  in  that  old  family  paper. 
How  had  he  been  able  to  refrain  from  writing  down  some 
of  the  emotions  which  must  have  stirred  him?  Secretive 
though  she  was,  she  could  not  have  refrained.  She  had 
to  write  that  book  of  hers.  She  remembered  now  the 
intense  relief  she  experienced  when  she  set  about  doing 
it  —  she,  too,  who  had  not  the  habit  of  writing.  Well, 
perhaps  one  day  Rupert  would  find  some  stray  list  or 
memorandum  somewhere,  and  then  they  might  learn 
which  had  been  his  favourite  gem. 

But  hush  —  what  was  that  sound  —  that  faint  sound 
in  the  stillness  of  the  night? 

She  started,  tense  and  alert.  She  glanced  towards 
the  window  where  the  old  monk  was  supposed  to  stand 
and  look  in.  Had  he  left  his  post?  Was  he  entering 
the  house?  No,  surely  not.  Something  was  stirring 
—  some  one  was  stirring.  There  were  soft  footsteps 
coming  nearer  and  nearer.  She  could  hear  them  now. 


326      WHERE  YOUR  HEART  IS 

Her  heart  stood  still.  There  was  a  creaking  on  the 
stairs.  There  was  a  traversing  of  the  hall.  There 
was  a  pausing  on  the  threshold.  There  was  a  gentle 
fumbling  at  the  door-handle. 

Mrs.  Thornton  entered. 

Tamar  did  not  stir,  could  not  stir.  If  she  had  to 
account  for  her  presence  there,  all  she  could  say,  would 
be  that  she  could  not  account  for  it  —  and  it  would  be 
the  truth.  Then  instantly  it  was  borne  in  on  her  that 
there  was  no  need  to  fear.  Mrs.  Thornton  was  walking 
in  her  sleep  —  yes,  and  weeping.  Tamar  heard  the  sobs 
amid  the  heavy  breathing. 

Like  a  troubled  spirit  she  came,  like  a  restless  spirit 
she  wandered  around  the  room,  and  like  a  spirit  she  van- 
ished. Had  she  come  to  her  husband's  Holy  of  Holies 
to  find  treasure,  not  pearls  nor  rubies  nor  any  precious 
stones,  but  solace  for  memories,  regrets,  longings,  lost 
chances  —  hidden  treasure  seldom  found  ? 

The  next  morning  Tamar  told  Mrs.  Thornton  that 
she  had  not  thought  Marion  looking  well  the  last  time 
she  saw  her  at  the  St.  Ursula  Military  Hospital,  that 
Winifred,  in  spite  of  her  elevation  to  the  rank  of  In- 
spector, had  complained  of  violent  neuralgia,  and  that 
Rupert  had  said  that  he  had  entirely  lost  his  appe- 
tite. 

"  He  rather  looked  like  it,"  Tamar  said,  closing  her 
eyes,  her  usual  trick  when  she  was  deceiving  any  one. 
"  He  is  not  fit  for  much  war  work  yet,  I  should  judge." 

"  Not  taking  his  food,"  exclaimed  Mrs.  Thornton,  in 
immediate  concern.  "  That's  very  bad.  The  boy  needs 
building  up  the  whole  time.  And  Winifred  suffering 
from  neuralgia  just  when  she  is  going  off  to  that  muni- 


WHERE  YOUR  HEART  IS      327 

tions  factory,  and  Marion  not  herself  either.  Why  did 
you  not  tell  me  last  night,  when  we  were  speaking  of 
them?" 

"  You  mothers  fret  over  nothing,"  Tamar  said  guile- 
lessly. "  I  did  not  like  to  give  you  a  restless  night." 

"  I  had  that,  in  any  case,"  Mrs.  Thornton  said.  And 
a  shadow  came  over  her  face.  For  a  moment  she  was 
silent. 

"  But  this  decides  me,"  she  went  on.  "  I  shall  return 
to  London  with  you  today." 

"  I  should  not  hurry  off  if  I  were  you,"  Tamar  said. 
"  There's  no  need  for  that.  I  am  afraid  I  have  made 
you  unduly  anxious.  Stay  at  least  a  few  more  days." 

She  smiled  inwardly  as  she  spoke.  She  knew  some- 
thing about  the  value  of  opposition  craftily  and  care- 
fully applied. 

"  I  shouldn't  dream  of  it,"  Mrs.  Thornton  said,  bus- 
tling up.  "  I'll  go  today.  I  cannot  stay  away  when 
the  children  are  ailing.  It  is  then  that  they  need  me. 
We  will  have  a  motor  and  drive  over  the  moors  to  Brad- 
ford and  get  the  express  from  there.  It  is  a  lovely 
morning  for  a  run,  and  you  would  enjoy  it.  I  will  tele- 
phone at  once  to  the  Station  Hotel." 

Tamar  chuckled.  She  was  as  pleased  with  the  results 
of  her  romancing  as  if  she  had  concluded  an  admirable 
bit  of  business  cheating.  If  it  had  not  succeeded,  she 
would  have  tried  something  else.  She  was  not  intend- 
ing to  leave  Mrs.  Thornton  at  Marton  Grange  to  wan- 
der about  in  the  night  grieving,  holding  her  hands  out  to 
the  past  —  sobbing  her  heart  out  —  unable  to  rest, 
even  in  her  sleep.  That  was  not  to  be  borne.  And  the 
children  must  be  /told.  They  must  not  allow  it. 


328      WHERE  YOUR  HEART  IS 

Tamar  never  forgot  that  drive.  She  was  not  one  of 
Nature's  children,  but  that  morning  Nature,  as  if  deter- 
mined to  win  the  alien  who  had  ever  been  indifferent  to 
her,  put  forth  all  her  charms  to  attract  and  thrill  and 
hold. 

To  the  clouds  she  said : 

"  Show  her  the  glory  of  your  changing  lights." 

To  the  sun  she  said : 

"  Pour  all  your  wealth  of  golden  warmth  on  her." 

To  the  air  of  the  wild  moorland  she  said : 

"  Caress  her  first,  encircle  her  lovingly  so  that  she 
may  know  you  to  be  a  friend,  and  then  if  you  wish,  put 
forth  your  strength  and  let  her  feel  the  wild  impact  and 
rush  of  your  breath." 

To  the  moors  she  said: 

"  Show  her  purple  amethysts  such  as  she  has  never 
seen  before." 

To  the  pasture  uplands  she  said : 

"  Let  her  see  our  fields  of  fresh  emeralds  glittering  in 
the  sun." 

To  the  mountain  streams  she  said : 

"  Leap  joyously,  dear  children,  show  her  in  what  glad 
fashion  the  mountain  streams  dance  down  from  the 
fells  to  greet  the  river." 

And  to  the  fells  she  said : 

"  Stand  out  in  all  your  rugged  grandeur.  Be  to  her 
as  symbols  of  greatness,  free  from  the  trammels  of  petty 
concerns  below." 

They  raced  over  the  wild  moorland,  always  higher  and 
higher,  past  grim  boulders  and  mountain  sheep  and 
lonely  shepherds'  huts,  past  marshes  sending  out  their 
salt-laden  breath,  and  peewits  circling  overhead,  and 


WHERE  YOUR  HEART  IS      329 

here  and  there  a  stunted  thorn  tree  which  spoke  of  con- 
tests with  the  blast.  Down  dipped  they  now  to  the 
river,  and  passed  through  wondrous  woods  of  many 
tints  of  green,  and  pastures  where  the  cows  were  graz- 
ing and  sweet  villages  sheltering  in  the  dale ;  and  once 
more  gladly  gained  they  the  moors  and  came  into  the 
liberating  joy  of  the  wider  spaces.  And  on  and  ever 
on  they  sped,  until  the  glories  of  moor  and  fell  and 
green  slopes  and  smiling  valley  with  its  winding  silver 
river  were  left  far  behind,  and  Nature  had  waved  them 
her  last  good-bye. 


CHAPTER  VIII 

TAMAR  had  been  faithful  to  Marion's  hospital. 
With  the  exception  of  the  weeks  she  had  been  in 
Holland,  she  went  regularly  to  see  her  friend  Seymour, 
always  taking  something  from  her  collection  to  show 
him,  once  a  very  beautiful  alexandrite,  once  an  interest- 
ting  tin  stone,  and  on  other  occasions  several  curious 
tourmalines  and  fine  Egyptian  peridots  of  good  colour. 
Before  he  finally  left  St.  Ursula's,  she  took  him  to  Mr. 
Grierson,  the  lapidary,  and  Seymour's  latest  history 
was  that  he  became  a  gem-cutter.  She  had  made  other 
friends  in  the  ward,  and  news  of  her  kindness  to  the 
men  having  reached  the  C.O.,  she  was  given  a  permit 
which  was  renewed  from  time  to  time,  and  thus  became 
practically  permanent.  The  ward  had  now  no  terror 
for  her.  No  longer  did  she  need  to  linger  on  the  thresh- 
old and  summon  up  courage  to  face  the  beds  of  sickness. 

"  Not  that  I  shall  ever  like  to  be  with  ill  people,  Ma- 
rion," she  said  sometimes  with  great  surliness.  "  No 
*  churn  up  '  could  ever  produce  that  change  in  me." 

Marion  only  laughed.  She  knew  Tamar's  ways  by 
this  time. 

As  for  the  wounded  soldiers,  the  churn  up  had  long 
ago  accustomed  them  to  the  changes  going  on  in 
Blighty,  and  they  had  ceased  to  be  astonished  at  what 
the  women  were  doing  in  this  particular  hospital  or 
anywhere.  There  was  now  no  look  of  wonder  on  their 
faces  when  on  arriving,  they  found  women  stretcher- 
bearers  waiting  for  them.  The  novelty  of  having 

330 


WHERE  YOUR  HEART  IS      331 

women  doctors  to  look  after  them  and  operate  on  them 
was  no  longer  a  subject  of  discussion,  nor  a  cause  for 
surprise,  indignation  or  amusement.  The  story  of  the 
sergeant-major  who,  after  weeks  of  sustained  sulkiness 
and  hostility,  suddenly  capitulated  and  on  leaving  wrote 
a  handsome  tribute  to  the  care  he  had  received  and  a 
handsome  apologia  for  his  ungraciousness,  was  like  a 
legend  of  far-off  days.  If  there  was  any  talk  now  about 
women's  new  activities  in  all  directions,  it  was  chiefly 
confined  to  irritated  speculation  as  to  whether  the 
women  would  be  ousting  men  from  their  jobs.  And  in 
many  cases  it  was  entirely  a  dog-in-the-manger  spirit 
that  roused  and  encouraged  this  anxiety,  for  numbers 
of  the  men  were  always  declaring  that  they  did  not  in- 
tend to  go  back  to  their  pre-war  work. 

"  Catch  me  sitting  in  a  bank  all  day !  "  said  Private 
Greville,  a  bank  clerk.  Yet  he  was  one  of  the  most 
eloquent  speakers  on  the  subject  of  women  depriving 
men  of  their  work  in  banks  and  business  houses. 

There  was  always  a  good  deal  of  talk  about  the 
labour  outlook,  labour  unrest,  labour  intentions  —  and 
labour  triumph.  In  Ward  Z,  Private  Jones,  a  huge 
miner,  a  Yorkshireman,  used  to  stand  before  the  fire,  as 
soon  as  he  could  stand,  wave  his  arms  about,  and  in  a 
voice  which  could  have  reached  to  the  uttermost  ends 
of  the  earth,  always  finished  up  with: 

"  /  tell  you,  boys,  the  world  is  ours.  The  people  are 
coining  to  stay." 

There  was,  of  course,  endless  talk  about  the  delin- 
quencies of  the  War  Office  —  and  no  wonder.  The  de- 
lay in  receiving  payment,  the  inaccuracy  of  the  amounts 
eventually  received,  the  Herculean  difficulties  to  be  over- 
come before  the  corrections  took  place,  if  ever,  were 


332      WHERE  YOUR  HEART  IS 

favourite  subjects  which  never  failed  to  rouse  the  meek- 
est, the  most  patient.  Some  were  indignant,  some  re- 
signedly amused,  others  bitter. 

"  So  this  is  all  a  grateful  Government  can  do  for  me 
—  insult  me  and  cheat  me,"  said  Private  Black,  an  en- 
gine-driver, who  had  had  really  monstrous  trouble  over 
his  pay.  "  Eleven  shillings  debit,  when  it  ought  to  be 
four  pounds  three  shillings  credit.  It  makes  a  fellow 
downright  mad.  Now,  mate,  can  you  understand  this 
statement?  " 

No  one  could.  Probably  no  one  was  intended  to. 
The  brain  of  the  most  distinguished  Senior  Wrangler 
would  have  been  baffled  by  the  problem  and  the  figures. 

There  was  intermittent  discussion  about  the  war,  but 
not  nearly  so  much  as  one  would  have  expected  from  the 
people  who  had  actually  been  taking  part  in  it.  Now 
and  again  there  rose  up  some  one  who  was  interested  in 
it  as  a  whole,  and  was  able  to  take  a  comprehensive  sur- 
vey of  all  the  operations  in  all  the  centres.  Private 
Smith  was  of  this  ilk.  He  was  a  compositor,  keen,  en- 
thusiastic and  of  informed  mind.  But  for  the  most 
part,  the  men  spoke  of  the  work  of  their  batteries  or 
companies ;  and  the  destinies  of  nations  concerned  them 
not  at  all.  Impersonal  debate  nearly  always  drifted 
into  personal  narration  and  reminiscence.  When  first 
men  came  from  the  Front,  it  was  the  news  of  the  bat- 
talion that  was  wanted  before  the  news  of  the  war  — 
human  and  natural  enough,  in  all  conscience. 

"  Well,  how's  old  Fritz  ?  "  was  one  of  the  questions 
after  more  important  topics  had  been  dealt  with. 

"  Oh,  Fritz  is  being  beaten,  and  he  knows  it,"  was  the 
usual  answer  at  first. 

But  later  that  was  not  the  answer.     It  was : 


WHERE  YOUR  HEART  IS      333 

"  Fritz  will  take  a  devil  of  beating,  but  we'll  do  it  yet, 
of  course." 

Of  course.  There  was  no  doubt  about  that ;  but  the 
time  limit  which  started  by  being  a  few  weeks,  had 
stretched  to  another  Christmas,  another  six  months,  an- 
other year,  another  two  years  —  any  old  time. 

The3T  discussed  their  chances  of  being  "  boarded," 
and  if  discharged,  their  prospects.  Was  the  country 
going  to  look  after  them  properly,  or  cheese-pare  them, 
or  neglect  them  altogether,  as  in  all  previous  wars,  in- 
cluding the  South  African  war?  Private  Johnson,  in 
civil  life  a  plumber's  mate,  was  never  tired  of  asking  this 
question. 

"  No,  sonnie,"  said  Corporal  Jenkins.  "  No  fear  of 
that.  Times  are  changed.  They've  had  to  change,  or 
the  public  would  know  the  reason  why.  You'll  get  your 
pension  right  enough  in  ten  years  or  so.  Or  perhaps 
they'll  be  offering  you  a  place  in  the  Government  at  five 
thousand  a  year." 

"  I'll  take  it,"  said  Johnson,  with  a  wink.  "  Perhaps 
I'd  do  just  as  well  as  some  of  those  blokes  there." 

"  In  that  case  I  shall  certainly  emigrate  to  Austra- 
lia," said  Rifleman  White.  "  It  would  be  safer  there. 
Or  Nova  Scotia.  What  about  prospects  there,  Mc- 
Intyre  ?  Any  opening  in  the  diving  line  for  me  there  ?  " 

Mclntyre,  who  was  a  diver  by  profession  and  had  a 
great  flow  of  words,  then  held  forth  on  the  superiority 
of  the  Colonies  to  the  Mother  Country.  Chances  for 
every  one,  and  a  life  worth  living.  Canada  was  the 
place  to  go  to,  not  Australia.  A  man  would  be  a  fool 
to  go  to  Australia  when  he  could  go  to  Canada.  Sap- 
per Dyson,  a  mighty  Australian,  of  few  words  but  of 
fierce  looks,  said  a  man  was  a  fool  to  go  to  Canada  when 


334      WHERE  YOUR  HEART  IS 

he  could  go  to  Australia.  And  a  New  Zealander,  Pri- 
vate Hannay,  who  had  lost  a  leg  to  which  he  always  al- 
luded affectionately  as  "  dear  old  Polly,"  said  that  a 
man  was  a  fool  to  go  to  Australia  or  Canada  when  he 
could  go  to  such  a  beautiful  and  glorious  land  as  New 
Zealand. 

*'  The  pick  of  the  world,  the  pick  of  the  world,"  he 
said.  "  That's  what  dear  old  Polly  used  to  say,  and  I 
agreed  with  her." 

"  Hoxton's  the  best  place  of  them  all,"  said  a  Hoxton 
man.  "  Good  old  Blighty  for  me.  You  know  where 
you  are  here." 

"  Yes,  by  God,"  thundered  out  Driver  Joyce,  who  was 
subject  to  attacks  of  Socialist  rage  — "  you  know  where 
you  are  and  who  you  are  —  the  under-dog." 

"  Steady,  steady,  old  chap,"  said  Private  Grant. 
"You'll  lose  your  other  eye  if  you're  not  careful. 
Didn't  the  doctor  tell  you  to  keep  quiet  and  peaceful? 
Here,  Nurse,  this  man  wants  a  drink." 

But  emigration  was  in  the  air  all  the  time.  The  pres- 
ence of  the  Colonials  of  course  fostered  it.  And  the 
Englishmen  made  many  inquiries  about  conditions,  espe- 
cially from  those  who  had  not  been  born  there,  but  had 
themselves  emigrated,  and  were  therefore  in  a  better 
position  to  compare  the  disadvantages  of  the  old  coun- 
try with  those  of  the  new.  Numbers  of  the  young  men 
wanted  to  leave  England.  When  the  Boche  had  been 
put  in  his  right  place  again,  and  Blighty  had  settled 
down  to  sleep  once  more,  she  could  surely  be  left  to  look 
after  herself.  Yes  —  the  new  world  for  them. 

There  was  not  much  sentiment  of  patriotism  amongst 
them, 

"  Patriotism,"  said  Rifleman  Jenkins,  "  is  something 


WHERE  YOUR  HEART  IS      335 

for  the  newspaper  chaps  to  write  columns  about.  I  tell 
you,  the  words  *  For  King  and  Country  '  make  me 
tired." 

Blighty  as  a  land  had  to  be  defended  at  all  costs  be- 
cause it  contained  their  houses.  That  was  all.  The 
glory  and  grandeur  of  the  British  Empire  did  not  cap- 
ture their  imaginations.  They  were  only  mildly  inter- 
ested when  Personages  came  to  see  them.  Considering 
that  snobbery  is  deeply  implanted  in  the  British  breast, 
it  was  interesting  to  notice  how  little  they  really  cared. 
Many  of  them  would  far  rather  have  welcomed  the  ed- 
itor of  John  Bull,  or  had  the  gramophone  repaired,  or 
been  presented  with  half  a  dozen  new  records  of  the  very 
latest  popular  music-hall  songs. 

Great  critics  were  they  of  the  performances  they  wit- 
nessed in  their  own  entertainment  room,  or  at  the  thea- 
tres or  music  halls  to  which  they  were  taken.  They  had 
learnt  to  expect  the  best  —  and  get  it.  If  by  chance 
they  didn't  get  it,  they  knew  —  and  so  did  every  one 
else  too ! 

Sapper  Harrison  was  a  great  imitator  of  the  artists. 
He  took  them  off  to  a  nicety. 

"Like  to  hear  me  do  a  George  Robey  turn?"  he 
would  say.  "  I'm  a  genius,  I  am.  Like  to  hear  me  take 
that  high  note  that  woman  took?  Well,  you  lift  your- 
self up  on  your  toes  if  you've  got  any  left  —  like  this 

—  and  if  your  jaw's  not  been  blown  away,  you  make  a 
face  rather  like  this  —  and  then,  here  goes !  " 

They  took  off  every  one  that  came  into  their  horizon 

—  doctors,  nurses,  sisters,  chaplain,  masseuses,  librari- 
ans, ward  visitors  —  their  whole  hospital.     Their  fun 
and  wit  were  often  directed  against  them,  but  never 
their  malice.     And  when  they  knew  that  they  were  go- 


336      WHERE  YOUR  HEART  IS 

ing  to  be  bored,  they  retired  into  their  sheets,  as  into  a 
funk-hole,  with  great  promptitude.  If  not  prompt 
enough,  they  bore  their  ordeal  with  a  chivalry  which 
might  well  have  been  imitated  by  rank  and  fashion. 

They  were  amazingly  modest  over  their  own  achieve- 
ments. Weeks  went  by  before  any  one  knew,  for  in- 
stance, that  quiet  little  Corporal  Dean  had  got  the  Mili- 
tary Medal  for  conspicuous  bravery. 

"  Don't  know  what  I  did  for  it,"  he  said,  blushing 
violently.  "  The  other  fellow  with  me  ought  to  have 
had  it  instead." 

Now  and  again  some  one  would  brag  a  little,  or  a 
lot.  Private  Dawson  had  tendencies  in  this  direction, 
but  his  audience  was  silent  or  dwindled  away. 

Strikers  they  had  no  use  for. 

"  Send  them  all '  over  the  top,'  that'll  settle  them  one 
way  or  another,"  said  Private  Green  grimly.  "  That'll 
speed  them  up  quick  enough." 

They  did  not  speak  much  of  their  sufferings  which 
they  bore  so  bravely.  They  went  up  to  their  opera- 
tions with  an  unconcern  which  was  both  interesting  and 
touching.  They  called  it  always,  "  Going  up  to  see  the 
pictures." 

"  Sha'n't  want  my  Boxing  News  for  a  day  or  two," 
said  Private  Wallace,  who  was  a  boxer  by  profession. 
'"  Going1  up  to  see  the  pictures  for  the  fifth  time." 

As  for  the  fighting,  they  were  all  agreed  that  it  was 
not  fighting  but  rank  murder.  But  once  out  of  it,  it 
did  not  seem  to  trouble  them  much.  Did  they  dream  of 
it?  No,  not  much.  Now  and  then  they  dreamed  they 
were  going  "  over  the  top."  Now  and  then  the  cry  of 
a  fallen  comrade  woke  them.  Now  and  then  a  vision 
of  the  horrors  they  had  passed  through  rose  before 


WHERE  YOUR  HEART  IS      337 

them.  But  on  the  whole,  a  merciful  power  of  forgetting 
was  vouchsafed  to  them;  and  appalling  details  which 
might  well  have  haunted  them  by  day  and  by  night, 
slipped  into  the  background  of  memory,  as  if  by  divine 
dispensation. 

There  were  some  who  did  not  hold  forth  on  any  sub- 
ject whatsoever,  neither  racing  nor  emigration,  nor  so- 
cialism, nor  even  the  ways  of  the  War  Office.  Corporal 
Brown  was  one  of  them.  He  had  never  been  known  to 
take  part  in  any  discussion;  but  once  he  did  look  up 
from  his  book  when  conscientious  objectors  were  being 
frizzled  alive,  and  said: 

"  I  sometimes  think  the  genuine  ones  amongst  them 
have  had  the  hardest  time  of  us  all,  boys.  They  have 
stood  for  an  idea  and  a  right  one,  and  for  it  they  have 
been  'despised  and  rejected  of  men' — like  that  other 
Reformer  we  know  of." 

"  Yes,  mate,  that's  all  very  well,"  said  Private  Jack- 
son, who  hated  the  conscientious  objectors  far  worse 
than  the  Germans,  "  but  we've  got  to  defend  their  homes 
and  people  for  them,  and  lose  our  limbs  for  those  blight- 
ers. That's  the  way  I  look  at  it." 

"  Yes,  it  does  come  to  that,  I  admit,"  Corporal  Brown 
said.  "  But  somebody  must  stand  up  for  an  idea.  I 
should  myself  hate  to  be  one  of  the  conscientious  ob- 
jectors, but  I  have  a  respect  for  some  of  them." 

Private  Jackson  put  his  two  fingers  to  his  head  as  if 
to  intimate  that  Corporal  Brown's  brain  was  out  of 
order;  and  Corporal  Brown  retired  to  his  book. 

There  were  many  men,  who,  like  Corporal  Brown,  did 
not  speak  much,  but  read  a  good  deal.  The  outside 
world  continues  to  suppose  that  wounded  soldiers  want 
only  the  stories  of  Nat  Gould,  or  John  Bull,  for  their 


338      WHERE  YOUR  HEART  IS 

weekly  paper.  But,  although  this  was  true  enough  of 
quite  a  number  of  men  at  St.  Ursula's,  there  were  al- 
ways scores  of  readers  who  were  only  too  glad  to  have 
the  chance  of  getting  hold  of  good  books  and  reading 
up  the  subjects  in  which  they  were  interested.  They 
were  given  exactly  what  they  wanted.  If  they  wanted 
a  book  on  wireless  telegraphy,  they  got  it.  If  they 
wanted  a  book  on  motor  mechanism  or  labour  problems, 
or  electrical  engineering,  or  metallurgy,  or  history, 
they  got  it.  Or  if  they  asked  for  travel,  or  adventure, 
or  detective  stories,  or  love  romances,  they  got  them. 
The  Times  Liter ary  Supplement  was  at  their  disposal 
equally  with  Tit-Bits. 

Private  Seymour,  as  we  know,  cared  only  to  read 
about  precious  stones.  Private  Clarke  spent  all  his 
time  studying  a  book  on  Sheffield  Plate  and  copying  the 
drawings.  Corporal  Hunt  loved  to  read  about  musical 
composers,  and  asked  for  a  Life  of  Chopin  the  very  day 
he  died.  Corporal  Banks  adored  roses  and  was  made 
divinely  happy  with  books  on  their  culture.  Private 
Gifford,  a  cook's  mate,  a  boy  of  eighteen,  with  as  bright 
a  face  as  one  could  see  anywhere,  literally  devoured 
good  books  and  only  cared  for  the  best.  He  discussed 
them,  too,  with  an  enthusiasm  which  was  very  refresh- 
ing, and  was  always  recommending  them  to  his  com- 
rades. 

*'  I  say,  old  chap,  here's  a  stunning  book,"  he  was  al- 
ways saying.  "  You'd  better  read  it  whilst  you  can  get 
it." 

This  enthusiasm  amazed  Gunner  Grant,  who  boasted 
that  he  never  read  a  book  through  in  his  life  and  never 
meant  to.  When  he  went  down  to  the  Recreation  Room 
and  saw  all  the  books  on  the  shelves,  he  said : 


WHERE  YOUR  HEART  IS 

"  Good  Lord,  do  the  boys  have  to  read  all  these  — 
God  help  them !  " 

There  were  others,  like  Gunner  Grant,  who  had  never 
before  waded  through  a  book,  but  whilst  lying  ill  had 
acquired  the  habit  of  reading  "  to  pass  the  time  away." 
To  many  of  these  lads,  books  became  even  as  a  newly- 
discovered  country,  full  of  possibilities  hitherto  un- 
dreamed of.  Private  Enfield  was  one  of  these  explor- 
ers. His  surprise  and  joy  could  only  have  been  equalled 
by  that  of  the  first  readers  of  printed  books  in  the  Mid- 
dle Ages. 

As  for  Sergeant  Williams,  he  had  always  thought 
that  a  life  without  books  was  not  worth  living. 

"  Yes,"  he  said,  "  at  the  Front  I  wrote  to  all  my 
friends,  and  got  them  to  send  me  books  for  my  battalion. 
I  planned  it  out  that  if  every  man  carried  one  book 
when  we  moved  on,  we  could  have  a  library  of  a  thou- 
sand volumes  at  our  disposal.  I  was  getting  on  nicely 
with  my  scheme  when  I  got  a  Blighty  wound !  " 

Stretcher-bearer  Gordon  had  a  story  to  tell  about  a 
ruined  cottage  near  Guillemont,  where,  carefully  put 
away  on  a  rafter,  he  found  one  book  and  a  piece  of 
paper  with  the  words : 

"  Carefully  preserved  by  a  lover  of  books  for  another 
lover  of  books." 

Sapper  Berridge,  a  tin-plater  in  civil  life,  was  exceed- 
ingly funny  about  books.  Like  many  other  people 
about  other  things,  he  judged  their  worth  by  their 
money  value. 

"  I'm  tired  of  a  sevenpenny  book,"  he  said.  "  I'll 
try  a  shilling  one  today.  I  expect  that'll  be  better, 
won't  it?" 


340      WHERE  YOUR  HEART  IS 

Or  he  would  say : 

"  I  don't  think  much  of  that  one  shilling  story.  I'll 
try  one  of  them  six-shilling  ones.  It  ought  to  be  good 
at  that  money,  oughtn't  it  ?  " 

Private  Nash,  who  had  been  buried  for  two  days,  and 
was  suffering  very  exceptionally  badly  from  shell  shock 
and  had  lost  his  speech,  always  wrote  down  the  names 
of  the  books  he  wanted  —  generally  on  Egyptology. 
But  his  nerves  were  all  to  bits,  and  he  trembled  a  good 
deal  and  could  not  concentrate  for  long.  And  he  was 
terribly  upset  at  having  lost  his  mother.  The  boys 
were  very  fond  of  their  mothers.  One  heard  constantly 
the  phrase: 

"  My  mother  has  been  a  good  mother  to  me" 

Tamar  was  in  Ward  Z  on  the  day  when  Private  Nash 
recovered  his  speech.  It  was  visiting  day,  of  course, 
and  she  had  been  having  long  conversations  with  two 
or  three  of  the  men  who  were  without  visitors.  They 
were  drawn  up  to  the  bedside  of  one  of  their  comrades, 
smoking  or  doing  their  needlework,  at  which,  under  the 
supervision  of  the  devoted  needlework  organizer,  they 
had  learnt  to  be  so  amazingly  clever,  often  only  with  one 
hand. 

Bomber  Thompson,  his  right  arm  gone,  was  about  to 
begin  to  put  in  the  jewels  in  the  crown  of  his  regi- 
mental badge,  when  he  turned  to  Tamar  and  said : 

"  This  is  in  your  line,  isn't  it?  WeD,  it's  a  good 
thing  you're  here  today.  You  can  tell  me  what  colours 
to  put  in.  Can't  make  up  my  mind." 

Tamar  chose  emeralds  and  amethysts.  He  nodded 
approval.  She  was  always  touched  to  see  them  at 
their  work.  The  thought  of  the  contrast  between  their 


WHERE  YOUR  HEART  IS 

terrible  experiences  at  the  Front  and  this  peaceful  occu- 
pation, always  pulled  at  her  heart-strings.  She  spoke 
of  it  now. 

"  Yes,"  said  Bomber  Thompson  with  a  laugh,  "  a  bit 
of  a  difference  between  throwing  bombs  at  the  Boches 
and  driving  this  needle  through  the  canvas  with  half  a 
hand  and  all  your  false  teeth." 

Suddenly  a  middle-aged  woman,  who  looked  as  if  she 
had  hardly  recovered  from  some  severe  illness,  came 
slowly  towards  the  group  and  stopped. 

"  Can  you  tell  me  where  Private  Nash  is  ?  "  she  asked. 

"  In  the  corner,  yonder,"  Bomber  Thompson  said, 
looking  up  from  his  badge.  "  The  last  bed." 

"  I'm  his  mother,"  she  said. 

"  His  mother ! "  exclaimed  the  man.  "  But  his 
mother  is  dead." 

She  smiled. 

"  She  nearly  died,  but  not  quite,"  she  said. 

She  went  on  her  way  towards  the  corner,  near  the 
lift,  and  stopped  at  her  son's  bedside. 

"  Ted,"  she  called.     «  Teddie." 

Ted,  who  was  lying  huddled  beneath  the  bedclothes, 
started  up,  saw  who  was  standing  there,  and  began  to 
tremble  violently.  Then  his  voice  came  to  him. 

"  Mother,  it  can't  be  you,"  he  cried.  "  They've  told 
me  you're  dead.  I  can't  believe  it's  you.  They've  told 
me  you're  dead." 

"  It's  me  right  enough,  Teddie,"  she  said,  as  she  put 
her  arms  round  him.  "  I  gave  it  to  them  hot  for  letting 
you  know  I  was  so  ill.  As  if  I  was  going  to  die  —  with 
my  boy  out  there  alone  in  France  in  them  horrid 
trenches." 


342      WHERE  YOUR  HEART  IS 

The  news  spread  through  the  ward.  Sister  was  soon 
on  the  spot,  followed  by  all  the  nurses  and  many  of  the 
men.  Private  Jones,  the  huge  miner,  stumbled  up  to 
Ted's  bedside,  waved  his  arms  about  as  if  he  were  ad- 
dressing a  multitude,  and  in  his  stentorian  voice,  roared 
out: 

"Now,  young  feller,  you  take  jolly  good  care  you 
don't  lose  that  voice  of  yours  again.  A  voice  is  a 
precious  thing  —  and  so  is  a  mother." 

The  news  spread  through  the  hospital  in  that  myste- 
rious underground  fashion  in  which  tidings,  good  or  ill, 
burrow  their  way  into  publicity.  The  doctor  of  the 
ward  learnt  it,  although  she  was  in  the  opposite  block. 
The  radiographer  and  her  orderly  learnt  it,  and  the  men 
playing  a  game  of  billiards  in  the  Recreation  Room 
learnt  it.  It  was  borne  to  the  kitchen  by  one  of  the 
cleaners,  a  Mrs.  Evans,  who  had  the  makings  of  a  true 
journalist  in  her. 

"  Yes,"  she  said,  "  she  took  up  her  bed  of  death,  she 
did,  and  walked  all  the  way  from  Newcastle-on-Tyne  to 
tell  him  she  weren't  dead.  Only  a  mother  could  do 
that." 

The  C.  O.  immersed  in  work  in  her  office  learnt  it. 
Matron  interviewing  a  Sister  from  Serbia  heard  it. 
A  Sister  lying  ill  in  one  of  the  bunks  told  one  of  the 
librarians.  She  told  a  stalwart  young  girl  who  was 
carrying  with  gay  ease  a  mountain  of  bedding  across 
the  courtyard.  She  told  Sergeant-Major  and  he  told 
the  transport  officer.  A  newspaper  man  who  chanced 
to  be  there,  snabbled  it  for  his  paper.  His  account 
corresponded  very  nearly  with  that  of  the  cleaner,  only 
he  put  the  place  farther  north,  choosing  the  remoter 
spot  of  Aberdeen,  instead  of  Newcastle-on-Tyne. 


WHERE  YOUR  HEART  IS  343 

Marion  Thornton  went  down  with  Tamar  when  she 
left  the  ward  that  afternoon.  She  had  to  go  to  the 
Quarter-Master's  office  to  exchange  an  old  electric  lamp 
for  a  new  one;  but  in  any  case  she  always  contrived  to 
have  an  errand  to  do  on  the  occasion  of  Tamar's  de- 
partures, partly  because  she  liked  to  have  a  few  min- 
utes' talk  with  this  friend  to  whom  she  had  become  much 
attached,  but  also  from  protective  reasons,  to  make  sure 
that  she  got  off  safely  without  any  untoward  adventure 
or  any  sudden  panic  or  sadness  at  the  sight  of  suffering. 

She  need  not  have  feared.  Tamar  might  say  that 
she  still  disliked  being  with  sick  people,  but  she  at  least 
never  shrank  from  harrowing  scenes  as  at  the  beginning. 
Wondering  admiration  and  a  great  compassion  had 
taken  the  place  of  personal  sensitiveness.  Gratitude  to 
these  undaunted  sufferers  had  ousted  her  former  selfish 
reluctance  to  serve.  She  was  increasingly  happy  and 
secretly  proud  in  being  associated  with  this  hospital. 
When  she  crossed  the  courtyard,  she  no  longer  turned 
her  eyes  away,  if  she  saw  an  operation  case  being  taken 
back  from  the  theatre  to  the  ward.  The  sight  of  a  dis- 
figured face  no  longer  made  her  shrink.  The  broken 
men  in  blue,  hobbling  along  on  their  crutches,  did  not 
now  inspire  her  with  a  sudden  longing  to  dash  away  and 
forget  that  there  was  such  a  thing  as  a  war  going  on. 
She  was  not  scared  when  she  met  any  of  the  officials  — 
not  even  any  of  the  clever-looking  doctors.  She  had 
learnt  to  be  immensely  proud  of  them,  proud  of  what 
they  were  accomplishing,  and  of  what  they  stood  for. 
And  today  when  she  glanced  up  at  the  window  of  the 
C.  O.'s  office  and  saw  her  and  the  Surgeon-in-Chief  bend- 
ing over  their  desks,  Tamar  paused  and  asked  herself 
a  question.  It  was  this : 


344.  WHERE  YOUR  HEART  IS 

"  Could  I  perhaps  spare  one  of  my  best  Siam  sap- 
phires, and  help  with  the  training  of  another  medical 
woman  exactly  after  the  pattern  of  those  women  in 
there?  " 

But  she  edited  herself  immediately. 

*'  No,  no,"  she  said,  firmly.  "  I  must  not  be  too  gen- 
erous. I'm  doing  quite  enough  as  it  is.  Quite 
enough." 

Marion's  voice  roused  her  from  her  reflections. 

"  Good-bye,"  she  said.  "  I  shall  lo^k  for  you  next 
Saturday.  I  say,  whilst  I  remember  it,  don't  you  dare 
forget  you've  promised  to  take  a  party  of  men  to  the 
theatre.  Twelve  would  be  a  nice  number,  wouldn't  it?  '* 

Tamar  laughed  her  soft  laugh.  She  loved  these 
claims  which  Marion  made  on  her.  She  watched  the 
girl  dart  across  the  grey  courtyard.  She  gave  a  last 
glance  at  the  rows  upon  rows  of  windows  which  had  at 
first  so  appalled  her,  and  now  seemed  to  beckon  to  her 
with  friendly  greeting.  She  glanced  at  the  four  or  five 
little  stunted  trees  trying  their  bravest  and  best  not  to 
be  outdone  by  the  flowers  in  the  pots  and  boxes  senti- 
nelled here  and  there.  She  was  on  the  point  of  follow- 
ing the  stream  of  departing  mothers,  sisters,  sweethearts 
and  all  the  other  visitors,  when  suddenly  the  convoy 
bell  sounded. 

Not  for  all  the  C.  O.s  in  the  world,  not  for  all  the 
Regulations  of  the  Defence  of  the  Realm  would  Tamar 
have  missed  the  chance  of  being  present  at  the  arrival 
of  a  convoy. 

She  beat  a  bold  and  hasty  retreat  to  the  area  of  the 
West  Block,  and  from  a  safe  corner  saw  again  the  inter- 
esting spectacle  of  those  dashing  girl  orderlies  scurry- 
ing on  to  the  scene  from  all  parts  of  the  hospital,  lining 


WHERE  YOUR  HEART  IS      345 

up  in  front  of  the  Sergeant-Major  and  ready  for  in- 
stant service,  whilst  the  grey  Red  Cross  Ambulances 
glided  in,  one  by  one,  with  their  freight  of  wounded 
from  the  Front. 


PART  III 


CHAPTER  I 

IT  was  on  the  twenty-fourth  of  February,  1916,  that 
the  news  came  through  of  the  German  attack 
launched  on  Verdun  and  of  the  magnificent  French  re- 
sistance, the  heroic  continuation  of  which  was  to  be  the 
abiding  admiration  of  the  whole  world.  Tamar  had 
bought  a  paper  and  glanced  at  the  news ;  for  though  she 
hated  newspapers  at  any  time  and  had  no  wish  to  follow 
the  course  of  the  war  in  detail,  yet  she  had  got  as  far  as 
keeping  vaguely  in  touch  with  leading  events.  For  one 
thing,  Bramfield  became  so  cross  if  she  did  not  know 
what  was  happening ;  and  he  was  fretting  so  much  over 
Bruce  that  she  did  not  like  to  vex  him,  if  she  could  help 
it.  Also,  it  was  rather  annoying  when  people  said: 
"  Didn't  you  hear  that?  "  or  "  Didn't  you  read  that  in 
this  morning's  paper?7' 

Not  that  her  soldier  friends  at  St.  Ursula's  would 
have  reproached  her.  By  no  means.  They  would 
probably  have  said: 

"  If  you  don't  want  to  know  the  real  news  from  the 
Front,  read  the  newspapers  carefully." 

She  could  hear  the  huge  Yorkshire  miner,  Private 
Jones,  giving  forth  this  sentiment  in  stentorian  accents. 
She  laughed  as  she  tucked  the  paper  under  her  arm  and 
passed  on  her  way  home,  after  having  attended  a  sale 
at  Christie's. 

As  she  rounded  the  corner,  she  came  upon  a  pretty 
young  woman  selling  flags,  who  was  at  the  moment  en- 
gaged in  pinning  one  on  the  coat  of  an  elderly  gentle- 

349 


350      WHERE  YOUR  HEART  IS 

man.  He  did  not  look  as  if  rationing  would  be  a  bad 
thing  for  him. 

"  I  seem  to  know  that  young  woman's  face,"  thought 
Tamar.  "  Where  have  I  seen  her,  I  wonder? 

"  Ha,"  she  said  aloud,  after  she  had  advanced  a 
few  yards.  "  I  remember  —  the  minx  who  robbed  me 
and  who  was  forgiven  by  me  when  I  was  in  a  melting 
mood." 

She  turned  back,  impelled  by  an  irresistible  desire  to 
torture  her  victim  again.  The  old  gentleman  had  de- 
parted; and  the  flag-seller  stood  alone  rearranging  the 
flags  in  her  basket. 

"  I  should  like  a  Serbian  flag,"  Tamar  said.  "  A 
penny  one." 

The  young  woman  looked  up  and  recognized  Tamar. 
She  gave  a  low  cry  of  alarm  and  seemed  almost  on  the 
point  of  throwing  down  her  basket  and  running  away 
for  dear  life,  when  Tamar  said : 

"  Don't  be  ridiculous.  I'm  not  going  to  harm  you. 
If  I  didn't  harm  you  then,  it  is  not  at  all  likely  that  I 
should  harm  you  now.  Please  pin  a  penny  flag  on  my 
coat." 

With  trembling  hands  the  poor  minx  pinned  the  fiag 
on  Tamar's  coat,  Tamar  smiling  the  while,  with  that 
particular  kind  of  smile  which  we  associate  with  the 
Spanish  Inquisition  tortures.  If  the  girl  had  been  told 
to  pin  on  a  hundred  flags,  she  would  have  done  so  gladly 
to  get  rid  of  this  most  unwelcome  customer. 

"  By  the  way,"  said  Tamar,  "  thank  you  for  the  little 
box  you  sent  me  out  of  gratitude.  Well,  good-bye. 
I'm  glad  you  are  doing  something  useful.  I  suppose  it 
is  useful." 

She  passed  on,  having  enjoyed  herself  hugely.     And 


WHERE  YOUR  HEART  IS      351 

soon  after  she  had  another  little  bit  of  enjoyment,  but 
of  another  kind  and  with  no  cruelty  in  it  this  time.  A 
young  girl,  walking  along  sedately  with  an  old  lady  and 
an  old  gentleman,  suddenly  broke  away  from  them  and 
bounded  forward  to  meet  Tamar. 

"  Madame,  Madame ! "  she  cried,  "  how  happy  I  am 
to  see  you  again  !  Don't  you  remember  Marie  Louise?  " 

Yes,  indeed,  she  remembered  Marie  Louise,  though  it 
was  not  easy  at  first  to  recognize  in  this  happy  young 
creature  with  laughing  eyes  and  rounded  cheeks,  that 
poor,  frightened,  demented,  forlorn  little  refugee  found 
in  the  hold  of  the  barge,  unknown  and  unclaimed.  But 
if  she  had  changed  in  appearance,  Marie  Louise  had 
not  changed  in  affection.  And  she  still  clung  to  Tamar 
as  she  had  clung  at  the  station  when  she  had  refused 
to  be  separated  from  the  English  friend  who  had  been 
so  good  to  her. 

"  You  see,  she  does  not  forget  you,  Madame," 
Grand'mere  said.  "  Everything  else  of  that  dreadful 
time  has  passed  from  her  mind,  but  not  yourself." 

Hand  in  hand  they  walked  along  together,  those  two, 
Marie  Louise  chatting  happily,  and  Tamar  recalling1 
how  the  trust  of  that  helpless,  stricken  child  had  first 
roused  in  her  a  feeling  of  protective  kindness  to  which 
she  had  hitherto  been  a  stranger.  No,  she  would  never 
forget  Marie  Louise.  Marie  Louise  had  broken  down  a 
barrier  for  her  which  perhaps,  no  one  else  could  ever 
have  removed. 

When  she  arrived  home,  she  found  Bramfield  waiting 
for  her.  The  old  char,  made  bold  now  by  the  churn  up, 
had  brewed  him  a  cup  of  tea.  She  thought  he  seemed 
tired  and  out  of  sorts. 


352      WHERE  YOUR  HEART  IS 

"  I  thought  you  wouldn't  grudge  it  to  him,"  she  said. 
"  Not  in  these  'ere  changed  times." 

Tamar  smiled  indulgently.  She  never  resented  the 
old  char's  criticisms  of  or  allusions  to  her  natural 
meanness.  From  no  one  else  would  she  have  suffered 
them.  But  Mrs.  Bridges  and  she  were  knit  together  by 
many  years  of  mutual  forbearance. 

Bramfield  told  her  that  he  was  so  exceedingly  restless 
that  he  did  not  know  how  to  live  his  days,  busy  though 
he  was. 

"  I  plan  and  plan  for  Bruce,"  he  said.  "  I  contrive 
something  all  day  long  and  dream  about  it  all  night, 
Tamar.  I  shall  never  rest  until  I  make  a  dash  into 
Germany  and  see  what  I  can  do  for  the  boy.  I've  kept 
back  because  I  promised  you  to  wait  for  the  report  of 
the  American  Doctors.  Ten  whole  weeks  —  no  more. 
I  went  through  miseries  of  suspense  when  delay  after 
delay  occurred,  and  still  the  Germans  were  pretending 
to  arrange  for  the  Mission  to  start.  And  miseries  when 
it  did  at  last  get  off.  And  as  you  know,  my  Tamar, 
miseries  of  disappointment  when  they  did  not  go  to 
Doberitz.  What  I  should  have  done  without  your  kind- 
ness and  help  and  sympathy,  I  can't  think.  Very  good 
have  you  been  to  me,  my  Tamar,  very  patient.  I've 
given  a  lot  of  trouble  lately." 

She  shook  her  head. 

"  No,  no,"  she  said ;  "  no,  that's  not  true." 

"  And  now,  worse  rumours  of  the  sufferings  of  the 
prisoners  are  coming  through,"  he  said. 

"  Yes,  I  know,"  she  said  gently. 

"  It  is  simply  not  to  be  borne,"  he  said,  "  and  I've 
come  to  tell  you  quite  frankly  that  I  cannot  keep  my 
promise  any  longer.  I  don't  care  a  brass  farthing  if 


WHERE  YOUR  HEART  IS      353 

people  think  I  am  a  futile  fool  for  wanting  to  get  into 
Germany.  Other  people  have  done  it,  and  come  out 
safe  and  sound.  Well,  we  saw  some  ourselves,  you  re- 
member? There  was  a  man  in  our  office  the  other  day, 
who  had  actually  been  to  Berlin  and  got  back  again  all 
right.  And  he  knows  about  as  much  German  as  your 
old  char.  But  he  had  cheek  and  could  bluff  well  and 
kept  his  head.  Well,  I  have  cheek  and  I  can  bluff  well, 
and  moreover,  I  can  speak  German  fluently." 

"  That  may  be,"  said  Tamar,  "  but  you  won't  be  able 
to  keep  cool,  Bramfield.  You  get  so  excited.  You're 
so  impetuous  —  like  a  boy." 

He  laughed. 

"  Yes,  it  is  rather  ridiculous  at  my  age,"  he  said. 
"  But  at  least  it  makes  one  continue  to  attempt  impossi- 
bilities. And  that  keeps  one  from  becoming  a  fossil." 

"  And  what  do  you  propose  to  do  when  you  are  in 
Germany  ?  "  Tamar  asked. 

"  I  can't  tell  tiU  I  get  there,"  he  answered.  "  But 
one  thing  will  lead  to  another,  and  I  shall  rescue  Bruce. 
I  tell  you  again,  every  fresh  account  that  reaches  us  of 
what  the  prisoners  are  suffering,  makes  me  more  deter- 
mined than  ever  to  have  a  try  at  carrying  out  his  escape. 
It  is  awful  to  sit  here  and  do  nothing.  But  I  can't  go 
without  your  consent,  my  Tamar.  I've  been  tempted 
many  times  these  last  weeks,  but  have  always  ended  up 
by  saying  to  myself  that  it  wouldn't  be  playing  the 
game.  I  want  your  consent.  If  I  have  it,  it  will  speed 
me  on  my  way  with  hope  and  good  cheer." 

She  rose  and  paced  up  and  down  the  room,  with  her 
hands  clasped  behind  her.  Her  face  was  tense.  She 
was  stirred  to  her  depths.  If  he  went  without  her  con- 
sent, he  would  go  disheartened  and  saddened  at  the 


354      WHERE  YOUR  HEART  IS 

outset,  and  that  might  spell  failure  for  him.  If  he 
went  with  her  consent  and  met  with  disaster  and  de- 
struction, then  she  would  have  helped  to  send  him  to  his 
doom. 

She  turned  to  him  suddenly,  with  her  arms  stretched 
out  and  almost  in  entreaty. 

"  Bramfield,"  she  cried,  "  it  is  simply  madness  — 
can't  you  see  it  is  just  madness?  " 

"  No,  I  don't  see  it  as  madness,"  he  answered  stub- 
bornly. "  A  so-called  mad  thing  often  proves  the  only 
sane  thing  to  have  done  in  the  circumstances.  It  all 
turns  on  whether  one  fails  or  succeeds.  Chance.  A 
hair's  breadth.  That's  what  it  is." 

Up  and  down  she  paced  again,  whilst  he  sat  staring 
on  the  ground,  his  hands  gripping  his  knees.  At  last 
she  knelt  down  by  his  side. 

"  You  shall  go  with  my  consent,  dear  Bramfield,"  she 
said,  in  a  low  voice  which  scarcely  seemed  able  to  give 
utterance  to  her  words.  "  I  mustn't  keep  you.  I  won't 
urge  you  to  stay.  If  it  is  madness  —  well,  it  has  to  be 
madness.  But  you  go  with  my  consent,  and  therefore 
with  my  blessing." 

"  Ah,  my  Tamar,"  he  said,  "  then  that  means  that  I 
shall  succeed." 

"  Yes,"  she  said,  "  you  will  succeed.  You  are  mad 
enough  to  succeed  in  anything." 

"  Mad  enough  to  have  succeeded  in  taming  you,"  he 
said,  as  he  drew  her  nearer  to  him.  "  If  I  could  do 
that,  I  could  do  anything  on  earth." 

Then,  after  a  spell  of  silence,  he  said : 

"  But  if  I  were  to  fail,  and  not  return,  you'd  look 
after  Bruce  when  he  came  home,  wouldn't  you?  You'd 


WHERE  YOUR  HEART  IS      355 

make  a  point  of  doing  it,  wouldn't  you?  Everybody 
has  got  to  have  some  one  to  belong  to,  and  Bruce  would 
have  no  one  except  you  —  until  he  got  married." 

For  answer  she  nodded  her  head,  and  his  hand  rested 
on  it,  as  if  in  benediction. 

Later,  he  said: 

"  By  the  way,  Tamar,  I  rather  want  to  see  your  star 
ruby.  I've  been  buying  one  for  a  client  lately  —  for 
one  of  those  ladies  with  earrings  that  you're  so  fond 
of  —  and  I  would  like  to  compare  it  with  yours.  I  have 
it  here.  It  is  a  beauty,  but  not  as  fine  as  yours,  if  I  re- 
member rightly." 

He  drew  out  his  pocket-book  and  took  from  it  a 
lovely  asteria,  with  its  six-pointed  shimmering  star,  di- 
verging from  the  centre  of  the  stone  to  the  edges. 

"  What  do  you  think  of  it?  "  he  asked. 

"  It  is  very  beautiful,"  she  said,  as  she  turned  it  over 
and  examined  it  critically. 

"  Now  let  me  see  yours,"  he  said.  "  I  am  curious  to 
compare  the  two.  Of  course  you  will  say  yours  is  the 
best.  I  wonder  you  haven't  said  it  already." 

To  his  surprise,  Tamar  made  no  effort  to  open  her 
safe  and  produce  her  own  specimen. 

"Don't  you  want  to  be  bothered?"  he  asked. 
"  Well,  let  me  get  it  out.  It's  on  the  top  shelf,  isn't  it? 
I  won't  bag  anything." 

"  It  is  not  there,"  she  said,  turning  her  face  away. 

"  It  isn't  there,"  he  repeated  in  amazement.  "  Then 
where  is  it?  " 

"  It  is  gone,"  she  said  sulkily. 

"  Gone !  "  he  exclaimed.  "  Why,  you  don't  mean  to 
say  you  have  parted  with  it?  It  was  one  of  your  special 


356      WHERE  YOUR  HEART  IS 

joys,  surely.  Why  didn't  you  tell  me?  You  have  al- 
ways told  me  before  when  you  parted  with  anything  like 
that." 

She  was  silent  for  a  minute  or  two  and  then,  as  if  she 
were  making  a  shameful  confession,  said: 

"  I  don't  think  I  want  to  talk  about  it,  Bramfield.  It 
was  a  great  wrench  to  give  it  up.  It  went  to  the  Red 
Cross  —  with  other  things." 

And  little  by  little  he  wormed  out  of  her,  that 
amongst  other  stones,  she  had  sent  a  rose-pink  beryl 
she  valued  greatly,  an  alexandrite  cat's-eye,  which  was 
extremely  rare,  and  a  specially  beautiful  Oriental  topaz. 

Simply,  almost  surlily,  she  told  him  that  she  had  real- 
ized she  had  to  make  sacrifices.  It  was  not  enough  to 
write  cheques.  She  had  thought  it  was,  at  first.  She  had 
written  a  cheque  now  and  again,  chiefly  for  the  sake  of 
easing  her  conscience.  But  after  she  had  been  to  Hol- 
land and  seen  Gertrude  Linton's  disinterestedness,  yes, 
and  his  own  disinterestedness,  the  disinterestedness  of 
all  the  people  he  had  brought  her  in  contact  with  over 
there,  she  had  begun  to  look  at  things  differently.  She 
had  wanted  to  give  a  bit  of  service.  And  after  she  had 
been  to  the  hospital  and  seen  for  herself  the  sacrifices 
\the  men  had  made,  she  wanted  to  make  sacrifices. 

"  I  don't  pretend  I've  made  them  gladly,  Bramfield," 
she  said,  with  a  wistful  smile.  "  I  could  never  arrive  at 
that  point.  Never  in  my  life.  But  I've  started  on  the 
journey.  You  have  helped  me.  When  I  dream  of  my 
mother  now,  I  no  longer  see  her  angry,  menacing.  And 
sometimes  in  the  stillness  of  the  night,  those  words  you 
spoke,  are  borne  to  me  afresh.  Perhaps  you  could 
speak  them  now." 

He  was  moved  by  her  confession,  touched  by  her  sim- 


WHERE  YOUR  HEART  IS      357 

pie  frankness.  He  looked  at  her  with  a  radiance  on  his 
face,  which  she  never  forgot,  and  then  spoke  the  beauti- 
ful words  for  which  she  asked: 

"  Lay  not  up  for  yourself  treasures  on  earth,  where 
moth  and  rust  doth  corrupt  and  where  thieves  break 
through  and  steal.  But  lay  up  for  yourself  treasures 
in  Heaven,  where  neither  moth  nor  rust  doth  corrupt, 
and  where  thieves  do  not  break  through  nor  steal.  For 
where  your  treasure  is,  there  will  your  heart  be  also." 


CHAPTER  II 

A  WEEK  or  two  afterwards,  Bramfield  went  to  Hol- 
land. He  did  not  say  good-bye  to  Tamar,  but 
slipped  off  without  a  word ;  and  it  was  from  his  friend, 
the  lapidary,  that  she  learnt  he  had  really  gone.  She 
had  called  in  on  some  business  and  heard  from  Mr. 
Grierson  that  Bramfield  had  asked  him  to  tell  her. 

"  I  was  coming  to  you  today,"  he  said.  **  I  tried 
hard  to  dissuade  him  from  attempting  to  get  into  Ger- 
many. It  seemed  to  me  an  altogether  mad  scheme.  I 
can  only  hope  that  his  friends  at  The  Hague  and  Rot- 
terdam will  prevent  him.  But  he  is  obsessed  with  the 
idea.  And  you  know  that  when  an  idea  gets  into  Bram- 
field's  brain,  nothing  moves  him." 

"  He  had  to  go,"  Tamar  said,  as  she  played  listlessly 
with  some  bits  of  jade  on  the  counter.  But  her  heart 
sank. 

On  her  way  home  she  kept  on  saying  to  herself : 

"  He  had  to  go.     He  had  to  go." 

In  the  days  that  followed,  she  was  restless  and  absent- 
minded.  Her  thoughts  were  with  Bramfield  all  the 
time.  Always  was  she  wondering  what  he  was  doing: 
whether  his  friends  in  Holland  had  persuaded  him  to  re- 
linquish his  plan,  or  whether  he  had  passed  over  the 
frontier  and  was  having  adventures  and  misadventures, 
the  very  thought  of  which  made  her  heart  stand  still. 
At  moments  she  tortured  herself  with  regrets  and  self- 
reproaches  that  she  had  not  detained  him.  She  knew 
that  she,  if  any  one,  could  have  detained  him,  could  have 

358 


WHERE  YOUR  HEART  IS      359 

deterred  him.  If  she  had  said  to  Bramfield  that  she 
would  marry  him  then  and  there,  he  would  not  have 
gone.  Why  did  she  not  say  it?  She  had  almost  said 
it.  She  had  not  refrained  because  of  dreading  to  give 
up  her  liberty.  She  was  caring  less  and  less  for  her 
liberty.  No,  she  had  refrained  because  she  knew  that 
it  was  Bramfield's  soul's  necessity  to  go,  and  to  cajole 
him  at  such  a  moment  and  take  an  unfair  advantage  of 
his  affection  for  her,  would  have  been  a  mean  and  un- 
worthy trick.  He  would  have  hated  her  for  it  in  the 
end  —  and  she  would  have  hated  herself  —  and  him. 
But  when  he  was  safely  back  again,  then  she  would  say 
to  him: 

"  Bramfield,  I  don't  want  my  liberty  any  more  —  I 
don't  want  it  any  more." 

Almost  she  could  hear  him  saying : 

"  All  right,  my  Tamar.  Are  you  sure  you've  made 
up  your  mind  at  last  ?  " 

She  wrote  immediately  one  of  her  laconic  letters  to 
him  and  sent  it  to  the  American  Relief  Commission, 
where  she  knew  his  correspondence  always  went.  This 
was  the  letter : 

"  Dear  Bramfield, 

"  I  want  to  say  that  when  you  return  I  don't  want 
my  liberty  any  more. 

"T.  SCOTT." 

Mercifully  for  her  she  was  very  busy.  A  new  War 
Loan  had  been  started,  and  her  shop  had  been  invaded 
by  people  bringing  their  jewels  and  antiques  to  sell. 
And  she  had  been  called  away  to  value  a  collection  in 
Cambridgeshire;  and  in  addition  to  her  own  business 
claims,  she  had  her  work  cut  out  for  her  at  the  hospital, 


360      WHERE  YOUR  HEART  IS 

where  she  had  now  been  installed  as  ward  visitor  to 
Ward  Z,  the  C.O.  having  recognized  her  kindness  and 
steadiness  of  service  and  purpose.  For  whatever  her 
faults,  fickleness  was  not  one  of  them.  Proud  was 
Tamar  when  the  C.O.  asked  her  to  be  ward  visitor  to  Z. 
She  did  not,  of  course,  betray  any  signs  of  pleasure. 
On  the  contrary,  she  appeared  to  the  C.O.  and  the  Chief 
Surgeon,  who  both  interviewed  her,  to  be  an  exceedingly 
sulky  individual  until  she  smiled.  Then  they  knew. 
But  they  could  not  imagine  what  on  earth  she  meant 
when,  on  taking  her  leave,  she  mumbled  something  about 
having  very  likely  to  reconsider  her  decision  about  a 
Siam  sapphire.  It  was  indeed  a  cryptic  statement. 

Parties  of  wounded  men  came  to  tea  in  Dean  Street, 
brought  by  Marion  in  charge.  The  old  char  gasped  at 
the  spreads,  and  at  their  disappearance! 

"  Not  a  crumb  left,"  she  said.  "  These  soldiers  can 
eat  as  well  as  fight,  can't  they?  And  what's  going  to 
become  of  us  soon,  I  should  like  to  know?  We  shall 
have  to  put  up  the  shutters  and  go  to  the  Workhouse, 
what  with  soldiers'  teas  and  a  gramophone  and  prison- 
ers' parcels.  Times  is  changing  too  much.  I'm  get- 
ting scared.  Aren't  you  spending  too  much  of  our 
money  ?  " 

Tamar  chuckled.  She  liked  her  spreads.  She  loved 
the  wholesale  demands  that  Marion  made  on  her,  though 
she  by  no  means  always  responded  to  them;  and  so  far 
she  had  entirely  refused  to  be  roped  into  Winifred's  net 
spread  for  the  welfare  and  care  of  the  munition  girl 
workers,  who  were  now  toiling  in  their  thousands  in  all 
parts  of  the  country.  But  whenever  she  did  let  herself 
go,  she  never  failed  to  maintain  the  profoundest  secrecy 
about  what  she  almost  appeared  to  consider  a  fresh 


WHERE  YOUR  HEART  IS      361 

crime.  It  was  a  curious  attitude,  but  it  was  distinctly 
better  than  a  blast  of  trumpets,  a  flashing  of  the  lime- 
light, a  dashing  after  recognitions  and  honours,  an  ac- 
centuation of  self-importance,  an  insistence  on  the  value 
of  what  one  was  doing  and  being  for  one's  country  — 
cheap  satisfaction  and  perishable.  Probably  Tamar 
was  too  much  taken  up  with  the  effort  of  being  human, 
and  doing  battle  with  her  temperamental  tendencies  to 
have  any  strength  or  consciousness  left  for  the  develop- 
ment of  "  trimmings."  Perhaps,  too,  she  was  helped 
and  influenced  in  her  new  ciareer  of  human  being,  by  the 
example  of  the  single-minded  soldiers  she  saw  week  in 
week  out  at  the  hospital,  who  put  no  value  on  their  in- 
dividual bit,  except  as  forming  an  infinitesimal  part  of  a 
great  whole. 

She  was  not  destined  to  pass  through  these  anxious 
days  of  waiting  for  news  of  Bramfield,  without  being 
buoyed  up  by  one  or  two  unexpected  happenings  of  good 
cheer.  To  her  glad  surprise,  Dorothy  arrived  one 
morning,  arm  in  arm  with  Rupert.  They  were  radi- 
antly happy.  It  was  evident  that  Rupert  was  not  con- 
cerned with  problems  of  the  unseen  world. 

"  We  have  just  been  married,"  Dorothy  announced 
gaily.  "  I  got  ten  days'  leave  and  thought  we  might 
just  as  well  do  the  trick,  so  that  Rupert  might  not  go 
on  being  gummidgy  —  dear  old  thing.  He  doesn't  look 
gummidgy  now,  does  he?  " 

"  Great,  isn't  it  ?  "  Rupert  said,  beaming.  "  We  had 
to  come  and  tell  you,  you  know,  so  that  we  might  have 
some  of  that  celebrated  Tokay  and  see  your  present  for 
the  one  and  only  home  which  still  looms  in  the  dim  dis- 
tance —  the  very  dim  distance,  worse  luck.  Never 


WHERE  YOUR  HEART  IS 

mind.  I've  landed  her.  She's  mine.  I  had  to  waive 
that  little  matter  about  the  Ordre  de  Leopold  II !  " 

"  It  rather  takes  my  breath  away,"  Tamar  said, 
laughing  at  them.  "  But  I  suppose  it  is  only  part  of 
the  churn  up." 

"  That's  it,"  Rupert  said.  "  And  that  is  how  mother 
took  it.  Mother's  a  peerless  pearl." 

"  Yes,  indeed  she  is,"  Dorothy  said.  "  She  looked 
up  calmly  from  her  knitting  and  said :  '  Really,  how 
delightful,  my  dear  children ! '  And  we  all  hugged  each 
other.  Worth  any  amount  of  wedding  festivities  and 
fussations  —  that." 

"  Rather,"  agreed  Rupert.  "  And  it  was  a  treat  to 
see  how  she  snuffed  out  Uncle  James  Currie  when  he 
muttered  something  about  it  being  '  precipitate,  un- 
usual, undignified.'  '  James,'  she  said,  *  try  and  not 
show  any  more  than  you  can  help,  how  ridiculously  out- 
of-date  you  are.' ' 

"  It  was  priceless,"  said  Dorothy.  "  I  only  hope 
my  mother  will  play  up  when  she  knows.  By  the  way, 
Rupe,  we  must  send  her  a  wire  at  the  station." 

"  We're  off  to  Lallington  for  our  honeymoon," 
Rupert  said.  "  I  was  delighted  when  Dorothy  chose 
it." 

"  I  love  the  old  Grange,"  Dorothy  said,  "  and  the 
monk  who  comes  and  looks  in  at  the  library  window, 
and  Barguest,  the  soft-footed  hound,  and  all  the  other 
queer  things  belonging  to  the  place  —  and  Rupert,  the 
queerest  and  dearest  of  them  all." 

They  drank  Tokay,  and  interviewed  Tamar's  present, 
the  beautiful  Limoges  enamel  which  was  to  wait  there 
for  them  until  the  day  dawned  for  the  one  and  only 
home. 


WHERE  YOUR  HEART  IS      363 

Laughing  in  their  young  happiness  and  comradeship, 
they  came.  Laughing  they  went.  When  they  had 
gone,  the  world  seemed  dark  to  Tamar.  But  the  clouds 
drifted  after  a  time;  and  the  memory  of  their  joy  shone 
out  like  a  beacon. 

That  helped  her  for  many  days. 

Then  Tom  turned  up.  He  had  been  nearly  three 
months  at  the  Front,  had  been  doing  very  well,  and  had 
already  earned  praise  for  courage  and  resourcefulness. 
But  "  Archie  "  had  caught  him  on  the  left  arm,  not  very 
badly,  but  badly  enough  to  send  him  home  to  Blighty 
for  a  short  time ;  and  he  was  in  hilarious  spirits  and  as 
keen  as  mustard,  and  almost  as  boyish  as  ever,  though 
he  looked  older. 

"  Who  knows,"  he  said,  "  if  it  had  not  been  for  your 
amulet  and  the  mysterious  words  you  pronounced  over 
it  and  me,  my  valuable  life,  the  hope  of  the  country, 
might  have  come  to  its  regretted  end.  Instead  of  which, 
here  I  am,  cheerioh,  going  to  all  the  theatres  for  the 
benefit  of  my  impaired  health.  By  the  way,  any  more 
treasure  been  found  at  the  Grange?  Do  you  know, 
when  I  was  coming  to,  after  my  operation,  they  said  I 
kept  on  calling  out,  *  Encyclopaedia ! '  Touching, 
wasn't  it?  Shows  how  one's  heart  seeks  the  haven  of 
one's  home.  But  then  I  always  was  romantic  from  ear- 
liest birth,  though  no  one  has  ever  believed  it.  I  tell 
you,  the  Sister  was  much  impressed.  She  said :  '  I  see 
we  have  a  scholar  here.'  I  told  her  I  was  a  scholar  and 
very  particular  about  the  kind  of  encyclopaedia  I  used 
—  you  know  the  kind  I  mean,  don't  you?  Well  —  were 
there  any  more  precious  stones  tucked  away  snugly 
anywhere?  Not  even  such  a  trifling  thing  as  a  dia- 
mond? " 


364      WHERE  YOUR  HEART  IS 

Tamar  laughed,  and  said  that  not  even  such  a  trifling 
thing  as  a  diamond  had  been  found. 

He  was  hugely  delighted  at  Rupert's  marriage,  but 
wished  he  could  have  come  over  from  France  in  his  "  old 
bus  "  to  drop  rice  or  confetti  on  their  heads. 

He  told  her  thrilling  stories  about  the  airmen  at  the 
Front  and  the  wonderful  things  they  did.  His  face  lit 
up  as  he  spoke  of  their  superb  daring. 

"  When  I  used  to  read  about  them  at  home,"  he  said, 
"  I  used  to  think  of  them  as  sort  of  gods  into  whose 
presence  I  should  never  come.  And  I  still  think  of  them 
as  gods  —  more  than  ever,  now  that  I  know  more  about 
them." 

Tamar  was  again  bewildered  with  all  the  details  he 
poured  out  for  her  instruction.  Long  reconnaissances, 
short  distance  reconnaissances,  severe  strafes  by  Archie, 
machine-guns,  zig-zag-dive-zooms,  patrolling,  low  flying, 
night  and  day  bombing,  photography,  gun  mountings, 
controls,  enemy  machines,  artillery  observation,  were 
some  of  the  subjects  hurled  recklessly  at  her  brain. 
But  though  bewildered,  she  was  exceedingly  "  bucked." 
His  good  spirits,  his  enthusiasm  and  his  cheery  com- 
panionship were  a  godsend  to  her  in  her  anxiety ;  and  if 
ever  a  person  was  grateful  for  the  magic  healing  power 
of  the  greatest  of  all  magics  —  youth,  with  its  irresisti- 
ble hope  and  buoyancy  —  Tamar  was  that  person. 

She  had  told  him  about  Bramfield ;  and  in  his  own  way 
he  tried  to  encourage  her.  He  said  he  was  sure  that 
Bramfield  would  came  back  safely,  and  she  was  not  to 
fret  and  use  the  cambric  handkerchief.  No,  she  really 
must  not. 

When  she  smiled  at  the  allusion  to  this  old  friend,  he 
said: 


WHERE  YOUR  HEART  IS      365 

"  There,  now,  you  can  still  smile.     That's  right." 

Never  a  day  went  by  but  that  Tom  dashed  into  the 
shop,  if  only  for  a  few  minutes,  and  called  out: 

"  Hullo,  you  there  ?  Any  news  from  that  blighter 
yet?" 

And  once  he  dragged  her  out  to  the  Coliseum.  He 
would  take  no  refusal. 

"  Come  on,"  he  said.  "  It'll  do  you  good.  Help  you 
to  forget  your  trouble.  Marion's  coming,  too.  Just 
go  and  get  your  hat,  and  we'll  be  off.  I'll  put  the  shut- 
ters up  and  give  the  cat  some  milk." 

When  he  came  to  say  good-bye  to  her,  his  last  words 
were: 

"  Now  mind  you  keep  your  tail-end  up.  And,  I  say, 
if  you  feel  like  it,  I  wish  you'd  send  me  some  Magliesberg 
tobacco  sometimes.  And  don't  forget  to  wish  me  luck 
in  bringing  down  Boche  machines.  Weave  them  into 
the  spell,  can't  you?  And  be  sure  and  scratch  me  a 
line  when  your  news  comes  through.  Cheerioh !  " 


CHAPTER  III 

THE  news  came  through  at  last,  after  ten  long  weeks 
of  waiting.  Gertrude  Linton  brought  it.  She 
arrived  with  her  little  suit-case  in  her  hand,  and  sat 
down  at  the  counter.  She  looked  pale.  There  was 
none  of  her  usual  gaiety  of  manner. 

"  I  bring  bad  news,  dear  friend,"  she  said. 

Tamar  bent  over  the  counter  and  stared  in  front  of 
her. 

"  Bramfield  is  dead,"  Gertrude  Linton  said.  "  He 
was  shot  as  a  spy  three  weeks  ago.  We  learnt  this  only 
two  days  ago.  We  learnt  also  that  Bruce  had  escaped, 
and  is  safe." 

Tamar  still  bent  over  the  counter,  but  her  eyes  were 
closed  and  her  lips  were  quivering.  Otherwise  she  gave 
no  sign  that  she  had  heard. 

"  Tamar,"  said  Gertrude  Linton,  and  touched  her  on 
the  arm.  "  Tamar,  I  want  you  to  know  that  he  received 
your  letter  —  Tamar." 

There  was  no  sign,  no  response  —  only  a  terrible 
silence,  long-drawn-out  in  an  eternity  of  pain. 

"  Dear  friend,"  Gertrude  Linton  said  at  last. 
"  Amongst  others,  I've  brought  over,  this  time,  a  for- 
lorn old  governess,  who  has  lived  in  Frankfurt  for  years 
and  has  no  home  to  go  to.  You'll  take  her  in  for  a 
night  or  two  until  we  can  arrange  for  her,  won't  you? 

You'll  carry  on  —  won't  you?  " 

366 


WHERE  YOUR  HEART  IS      367 

"  Yes,"  said  Tamar,  in  a  voice  which  seemed  to  come 
from  a  far  distance.  "  I'll  carry  on." 

She  raised  herself  from  the  counter,  and  went  slowly 
upstairs  to  prepare  the  room. 


THE    END 


